THE PLAIN DEALER. N^o 58.
VOL. II.
FRYDAY, October 9. 1724.

A GREAT many are plea⯑ſed, to be very rigid againſt Ladies, who appear firſt in the Declaration of Love, as if acting againſt Cuſtom, was ſinning againſt Right. As many make it their Tenet, that Men, if they but know a Woman loves them, will, ungratefully ſhun her, and play Tricks of an unnatural Diſdain. I doubt not but the Gentleman, who is concerned in the following excellent Letter, will give a Refu⯑tation [2] to theſe miſchievous Opinions; and ſhew, for the Honour of one Sex, and the Eaſe of the other, that they ought hereafter, to ſink among vulgar Errors.

WHAT conſtant Companions are Merit and Humility? How does this Lady conclude a Letter that muſt charm every Reader. If you print it, correct the bad Engliſh. It is too good to be corrected. Sincerity, and everlaſt⯑ing Tenderneſs ſhine forth, in every Sentence. That Perſon who does not plainly perceive, [5] that what Lucinda has written, flow'd from her Heart, muſt have his own Heart ill pla⯑ced, and removed out of the Way of Nature. If Men could write thus, no Woman of Senſe would be ever courted in vain: When ſhe ſignifies ſo plainly that ſhe loves him from her Heart; how cordially does ſhe labour to make that Plainneſs ſtill plainer, if poſſible, as ſhe proceeds ſtill farther in her Letter. Theſe plain Phraſes are the Maſter-touches of Nature, and put Art out of Countenance. This is the natural Simplicity, that makes the proud Scholar's Ornaments look poor. Any body, that knows what Love is, will not barely read, but feel this Lady's Letter. Old as I am, my ſelf, how am I warm'd, when, ſhe expreſſes her Tenderneſs. And, if every unconcerned Perſon be her Well-wiſher, what Emotions muſt this Letter be able to raiſe in the Boſom of that happy Man, whom it concerns. Will not her Prudence, her vow'd Obedience, her Study to pleaſe, her Humi⯑lity, and being unconſcious of the greateſt Worth in her ſelf; her whole Pride placed in admiring him, her Adoration, almoſt, of his ſuperior Merit; her deſiring, and yet diffi⯑ding, to deſerve him: Will not all theſe win over his Soul to her? Where ſhe deſcribes to him, how ſhe will behave in his Preſence, and how in his Abſence; what a Figure muſt ſhe make in the Imagination of this ad⯑mired Man? Muſt ſhe not be as much admi⯑red, as ſhe admires? Does ſhe not force him [6] to what ſhe ſo earneſtly wiſhes? The God of Love lives, breathes and acts, in every Line of it, and nothing leſs than THAT VERY MAN, who, as ſhe ſays, If there be ſuch a thing as Perfection in Mankind, is certainly Maſter of it, can be a ſuitable Prize, for her Merit.

IT has been reported concerning the fineſt Orator, of the preſent Age, that the Lady, to whom he was married, grew his Wife, by being his Client. He had long been acquaint⯑ed with her Patience, Temper and Spirit, by her Manner of ſoliciting her own Cauſe: He knew her Fortune, which depended upon it; ſhe gave him ſuch full and elegant Inſtructi⯑ons, as few profeſs'd Lawyers could have Penn'd, and as ſcarce needed his own power⯑ful Aſſiſtance and Amendment. He ask'd her, who had drawn them? and being in⯑formed her ſelf had been the Compiler, it is no wonder, that ſo much Wit, in ſo agree⯑able a Perſon, made that greateſt of Orators, whoſe Addreſſes no Lady could withſtand, from that Moment, her Suiter, and, conſe⯑quently, her Husband.—

I HAVE often wiſh'd, to be fully ſatisfied of the Truth of this little beautiful Piece of Secret Hiſtory.—But whether it be true in all its Circumſtances, it was not invented by one, who meant to malign the Fame of that Lord, or the Merit of his Lady, ſince a more glorious Accident could not well be aſſigned, to have brought about the Marri⯑age of ſo illuſtrious a Pair.

[7]THE Letter, which now lies before me, is the moſt exquiſite Plea that ever my Eyes beheld. I know ſome who underſtand not what Love is, will be offended at a Woman's firſt declaring her Paſſion. How ſenſible is the Fair One of this, when ſhe cries out, Tyrant Cuſtom and innate Modeſty, forbid my Tongue to utter the Tortures of my Heart.—By Lucinda's Leave, ſhe herſelf, is too rigid and ſevere againſt herſelf. Cuſtom, indeed, does forbid it, and a Tyrannical Cuſtom it is, becauſe, though pretendedly grounded upon the Colours of Modeſty, 'tis unjuſt, 'tis un⯑natural, and irreligious at the Bottom.—Is it not modeſt, as well as natural, to have an Inclination to be honourably married? She that has not an Inclination, before ſhe is ask'd, can hardly, with Truth, declare Inclination: And if it was an Inclination vertuous and honourable from the Beginning; it muſt have been equally vertuous and honourable from the Beginning to have owned it. A dull and obſtinate Concealment of the Truth, 'till it happens to be extorted, is a Triumph given to Folly over Nature, for the Sake of a miſtaken Modeſty. Both Sexes, if they will but reflect, muſt agree in this Truth.—

WHAT Batchelor of good Senſe would not be overjoy'd to diſcover a Lucinda, thus opening in his own Favour? The Man who diſliked a Woman for declaring her Approba⯑tion of him, would be like one, who ſeck⯑ing for a Silver Mine, and diſcovering by [8] chance, a Golden one, ſhou'd deſert it, for no other Reaſon, but becauſe good Fortune had put it in his Way.—

THERE is a vaſt deal of Delight in con⯑templating the Beauties of a Woman's Mind, who could write thus delicately. How hap⯑py would ſhe make her Husband? She would ſooth any Sorrow that could reach him, and exalt his Pleaſures into Raptures; ſhe would be his Comfort in Adverſity, and gild and adorn his Proſperity; ſhe would gladden his Youth, and cheriſh his Age; give more Warmth and Joy to the Summer of his Life, and yield Gaity and Refreſhment to his Winter; ſhe would give Wings to his Buſineſs Abroad, and divert him at Home, with her Converſation; ſhe would fill up the Vacuities of Solitude, with Diſcourſe, that was prefer⯑rable to the Company of Wits; no Nights could be tedious by her Side; and Day-light would be made more chearful by looking upon her.

BUT I draw towards a Concluſion as faſt as I can, for fear of hindring any longer, what I would ſpeedily unite. I fancy my ſelf to be this Minute, with my Paper, in the Parlour of that fine Old Seat in Surrey. Lucinda and her Lover, have both hold of the Plain Dealer, who tells them his Senti⯑ments like the Father of them both.—I hear him reading, I ſee her wiſhing, and yet dreading to be diſcovered.—I wiſh the Diſ⯑covery my ſelf—Methinks I ſee it, and hear [9] him ſay—You are Lucinda; I have often told you, You are all Charms. There wants no⯑thing but your Conſent to make us the happy Couple here deſcribed—Lucinda, trembling, holds the Paper as ſhe would let it drop—Now, if I could make my Paper ſpeak, it ſhould ſay, Do, drop me from between you; join Hands over a more Sacred Writing—It is ſo promiſing a Match, that the Plain Dealer is to act the Father in it—If you have not imme⯑diate Opportunities—If you apprehend any Hin⯑drance—Stay not a Moment where you are—Take a Tour to Blunt-Hall together—The Clergyman of our Aſſembly, ſhall join your Hands, and bleſs your Wiſhes, and you may keep your Wedding at the ancient Seat of the Blunt's, ſince it will be ſo happy an Example to many Maids, who have been ſcared ſo long, by a ſilly groundleſs Cuſtom, from ſpeaking their Minds in an Affair, on which depends all their Feli⯑city.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 59.
MONDAY, October 12. 1724.

IT is the Duty of a Patriot to mourn for thoſe growing Evils, which ſeem to threaten, either the Safety, or the Honour of his Country: And, for this Reaſon, I have often been, irreſiſtably chagrin'd, at the Cor⯑ruption of our Publick Theatres.—But I was, lately, enliven'd into Hope, upon this Subject; and am glad, I can aſſure my Rea⯑der, that there is a Spirit of Improvement at Work, to ſuſtain our ſinking Taſte, and ſet Examples for our preſent Stages.

THERE is a generous Boldneſs, as well in the Deſign itſelf, as in the Time of putting it in Execution. But nothing is more certain, than that it is form'd upon a Plan, which if it meets with the propos'd Encouragement, will go a great Way toward keeping the Hearts of the Gay World from breaking, ſhould ſo dreadful a Misfortune happen, as that the God of Wit revenges himſelf upon the pro⯑ſtituted [11] Theatres in Faſhion, by making Peo⯑ple aſham'd of appearing, where they ought to bluſh at their Entertainment.

I AM tranſported to this Pitch of Joy, up⯑on having Landed at Weſtminſter Stairs, in my Way from Barbican, to the Abbey Cloi⯑ſters (where I often muſe, on Subjects which, a long Time hence, may fill Plain Dealers) and met, in the King's Highway, a Party-colour'd younger Brother, of the juſtly-cele⯑brated Mr. Lun.—He was uſher'd along in great State, with a ſounding Drum in his Front, and a Trumpet, and French Horn, plac'd like Wings, on either Flank; while the Rear was brought up by a Body of ſcatter'd Velites, the flying Fragments of Humanity!

THE Checquer'd Nuntio, as I paſs'd him, ſtopt; and nodded his looſe Head at me: Snatching off his Pigmy Hat, by the Rab⯑bit's Tail which was annex'd to it: And, tripping toward me, with a wanton Wavineſs, like the Curling of a Ship's long Pendant, when it dances in a Breeze, ſlipt a Billet into my Hand; and, retreating, with a merry Shrugg, or two, reſum'd his Poſt as before, and gave Continuance to the Proceſſion.

FROM the ludicrous Turn of his Figure, I open'd the Paper he gave me, with very humble Expectation: But was ſtruck with no ſmall Reverence, when I beheld the Royal Arms, magiſterially diſplay'd at the Head of it: And Theſe ſurprizing Particulars pro⯑mulg'd, under the Stamp of ſuch a known Authority!

I FOUND myſelf not a little delighted, upon peruſing this Notification, to be aſſur'd, in ſo Authentick a Manner, that we have His Majeſty's Permiſſion, to be better accommo⯑dated than we have been. For, from this, in⯑tentional, Royal Grace, I grew ſanguine enough to expect, a very ſudden Revocation of certain Grants, for Monopolizing the Art of Conjuring; and of bewitching the King's Liege People out of all ſober Uſe, as well of their Money as their Senſes.—I enter'd, therefore, with Pleaſure, on the Diviſions of my printed Billet: And began, with a Criti⯑cal Eye, to examine what Likelihood there was, that Hero and Leander, ſhould be too hard for the Devil, and his Double Favourites.

THE Live Punch, though they ſeem to build much upon him, I cou'd conſider as no great Rarity.—Not that I wou'd derogate, in the leaſt, from that Reſpect, which is due to his Character: But he has Brothers upon both Stages, as much alive as himſelf, with the Advantage of being more incomprehen⯑ſible. [14]—Punch will be underſtood, with ſo little Difficulty, that our People of Polite Taſte, will never be able to bear him.—But, when I had read about half a Line lower, and came to that Part of the Declaration, which promiſes, That the Actors of this new Company, ſhall be ARTIFICIAL, I was preſently at Eaſe again: For, in that Caſe, I ſaw, moſt certainly, that there muſt be No⯑velty in their Deſign; ſince nothing is more generally allow'd, with Regard to the other Companies, than, That, for One of their Actors, who is Artificial, Six are abſolutely Naturals.

I GATHER'D much Conſolation too, from that other welcome Aſſurance, That the Di⯑verſions of this Royal Company, are to be very Changeable, and Conſiſtivarious. The Town has, Annually, for ſome Years paſt, been dieted, by the Playhouſe Doctors: And gone through a Regular Courſe of Bitters, with a moſt laudable Spirit of Meekneſs, and true Chriſtian Reſignation—Their Wit was fall'n Sick, and ſubmitted to Quack Potions: Becauſe Mountebank Stages, by being Li⯑cens'd, had the Reputation of College Practice: (And, to poiſon by Authority, has the good Fortune to be no Felony).—So that nothing is more certain, than that the Wooden Com⯑pany, will have the Advantage of our Brazen Ones, in this important Point, the Changeable.

BUT, as for the Conſiſtivarious, the old Workmen, I am afraid, will be more than a [15] Match for the new Ones.—I am not, in⯑deed, ſo able a Critick, in the Language of theſe Wooden Orators, as to decide, with any abſolute Sufficiency, the Signification of a Word, ſo Derivative and Complex, as Conſi⯑ſtivarious: But, if I am fortunate enough, to have rightly broke in upon ſo impregnable a Decompoſite, then, I am ſure, I may ſafely affirm, That our Stage's Conduct, ever ſince I can remember it, has been truly Conſiſtiva⯑rious, in the moſt remarkable and ſurprizing Manner.—Nay, a Triumvir of that de⯑tach'd Adminiſtration, the accompliſhed Au⯑thor of a Tragedy, which we are to be admit⯑ted to the Honour of admiring, in the Front of this happy Seaſon, is, I am ſure, ſo re⯑nown'd for his Conſiſtivariouſneſs, that one wou'd almoſt be induc'd to ſwear, That the very Word was of his own making, and coin'd, on Purpoſe, for his New Tragedy.

BUT, here let me correct a falſe Report, which this Great Writer ſuffers under, by the Means of ſome, who envy him the Honours which are due to his undoubting Genius:—It is ſaid, the Name of his New Tragedy is to be Caeſar in Egypt. But I aſſure all Chri⯑ſtian People, that though Caeſar, may ſtand, in Capitals, on the Title Page, yet that ſhou'd only be conſider'd as an Error of the Preſs; which the Buyer may correct with Eaſe, by reading CIBBER in Egypt, inſtead of CAESAR: And, with that ſmall Alteration, every Thing in this Tragedy, will be found [16] extremely Natural; and ſtand directly, as it ſhou'd be.

THE Spirit, however of our new Under⯑takers, at the White-Hart, is inflam'd into an enterprizing and ſmart Emulation! And I was very much taken with the Turn of this brisk Defiance—That, tho' they may paſs for Nobodies, becauſe they are made of Wood; yet, ſince they have the Good Luck to be five Foot high, they ſee no Reaſon to ſuppoſe their Adverſaries to be more than their Match; and will, therefore, perform with ſuch Nicety, as not to be diſtinguiſh'd from them; and doubt not in the leaſt, to give an equal Satisfaction.

AS for the next Paragraph, I fear it was purpoſely embroider'd over, with thoſe Like⯑wiſes, and Alſo's, for no other Reaſon in the World, but to cover a conſcious Deficiency in the Senſe, by the Eloquent Glare of the Ex⯑preſſion.—For, who does not obſerve, That Dancing of Jigs, Maſquerades, and Sarabands, are Improvements in Learning, which the happy Genius of our Nobility, and the vaſt Encouragement they give to Wit, have brought, already, to their full Perfection?—I can't ſee, therefore, what Novelty can be expected, in this Particular: Unleſs, when they give Notice, That All their Performers are to be Wooden ones, they wou'd have us underſtand it, that, by Aid of ſome third Fauſtus, their Fiddles are to fall a Dancing, and keep Time to their own Muſick.

[17]THE Riſing and Setting of the Sun, I have very little to ſay for, with Regard to its Newneſs.—Cupid's Paradiſe may pleaſe at firſt, but will flatten, if they ſhew it often.—The Court of Foreign Kings is no ſuch Rarity as they think it.—But, for every Figure to be dreſs'd, according to their own Country Faſhion.—That, indeed, is a Stroke of Decorum, which out-ſoars, at one Flight, Patent, Licenſe, and Charter! And it will be reaſonable to hope, after the Publick Taſte has been ſo refin'd, by theſe Chips of a new Block, that we ſhall ſee no more Intermixture of the Ancient, with the Modern Dreſſes: Where the Order of Things is ſo capriciouſly revers'd, that the Courtiers of an Engliſh Monarch ſhall ſtand round him, like Beaux of Yeſterday; and the Sovereign himſelf ſtrut about, in Trunk Breeches, and be dreſs'd, as old as a Patriarch.

THERE is, in the next Article, an odd kind of Myſtery, which I own I could not fathom: And, I frankly confeſs, I was, once, afraid, there might be a Plot in it.—I puzzled my Imagination, till I was weary of imagin⯑ing.—But, the more I mus'd upon it, the leſs I was able to make, of that ſtrange High-German Artiſt, who was to ſhake an empty Bag, inſide out, that we might ſee, there was nothing in it: And, then, rain Gold and Eggs out of it.

IT was eaſily to be diſcern'd, that the Scene was ſhifted in this Place.—The Play-houſes [18] could have nothing to do with the Pa⯑ragraph: None of Their Bags, for ſome Years paſt, having been Empty enough to turn in⯑ſide outward. So that I was greatly per⯑plex'd, by the Knottineſs of this Difficulty: Till I, luckily, bethought myſelf of a Friend of mine, a Decypherer; whoſe ſurprizing Dexterity, levell'd every Rub in his Way, and made it as plain, as a Demonſtration, That the empty Bag was the South-Sea Scheme.—That the Golden Showers were the ſudden Sallies of that Stock: And, that the Eggs were the ſucking Bubbles, that were hatch'd under the Warmth of it.

I SHOULD have been loſt, in this Deſart, if I had not return'd, to make a Remark, concerning the Modeſty of our new Comedi⯑ans.—How praiſe-worthy is their Genero⯑ſity, and the Diſintereſtedneſs of their Spirit! Who, after putting themſelves to the two-fold Charge of building, both their Stage, and their Performers, propoſe to act, notwith⯑ſtanding, at Lower Rates, than their Rivals; which Laſt go on to demoliſh, as faſt as their Competitors can build up: And yet, have the Courage to raiſe their Prices, becauſe they fall their Entertainments.

THEN, how juſt, and how Sympathetical, is another Care of our Wooden Reformers!—Being perfectly acquainted with the Talents of a Modiſh Audience, they have judiciouſly determined to provide Room for the Coaches and Chairs, in the ſame Para⯑graph [19] with the Gentlemen.—Their Thoughts were more upon Merit, than upon Good Breeding;—And ſince they knew that their Kindred Vehicles were as able Judges, as their Owners, and (which is of more Conſequence) as well-dreſs'd too; they, therefore, thought it but reaſonable to treat 'em with equal Re⯑verence.

WHAT kind of Play, that may be, which any Gentleman and Lady, who give Notice before-hand, are to be diverted with in Pri⯑vate, I muſt make a Perſonal Search into, before I undertake to conſider it.—But, upon the Whole, I believe, there can be no manner of Doubt, but that The White-Hart, in St. Margaret's-Lane, may bid as fair for Fine Audiences, as any of the Reſt of our Theatres; where, though the Actors are not of Wood, they have uſurp'd the Province of Wooden Actors.

The Plain Dealer. N^o. 60.
FRIDAY, October 16. 1724.

WHEN I read, with Admiration, the great Actions of an Alexander, a Caeſar, or a Tamerlane; or an charm'd by the more powerful Writings of a Homer, a Virgil, or a Cicero, I am fir'd with an impatient Longing, to conceive their Turn of Perſon, Air, and Features. And when my Fancy (forc'd to travel without a Guide) has tir'd itſelf with vain Endeavours to graſp Ideas, that are thin, and fleeting, I lament that the Materials of the Painter's noble Art, are not as laſting as the Painter's Fame is. For, in that caſe, Two Siſter Arts, uniting their different Pow⯑ers, the one tranſmitting Souls, the other Bodies, (or the outward Form of Bodies) their combining Influence would be of Force to fruſtrate Death itſelf: And all the Ages of the World would ſeem to be Cotempo⯑raries.

BUT, here, the Poet triumphs. His Works outlive the Painter's, though the Pain⯑ter [21] begins much ſooner to be famous, than the Poet does: And has alſo commonly the Advantage over him, with Relation to For⯑tune: The ſtrongeſt Reaſons of which Diffe⯑rence, I have lately read, with Pleaſure, in the following Letter, from an excellent, and learned, Critick, whom I ſpoke of, in a late Paper, and whoſe Encouragement, I am afraid, is (to the future Reproach of our Age) moſt ſhamefully diſproportioned to his Merit.

THERE is ſomething extremely new, in the Subject, as well as the Sentiments, of this Letter: And I will, therefore, take the Li⯑berty to publiſh it, for my Reader's Enter⯑tainment; though the Author, when he writ it, meant it only for the private Satisfaction of a Gentleman of his Acquaintance.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 61.
MONDAY, October 19. 1724.

THERE is not a more delightful Way of conveying uſeful Knowledge into the Mind, than Copying the Allegories of the Ancients: The following Genealogy of LABOUR and PLEASURE, is a modern Per⯑formance of this kind, which ſhews the Au⯑thor a Perſon of lively Fancy and ſound Judgment.

IT was ſent me in a well-written Letter, ſubſcribed J. F. which, when I ſuppreſs, I muſt own, I give my ſelf ſome Mortification.

The Plain Dealer. No 62.
FRIDAY, October 23. 1724.

I, WHO Pride my Self, in nothing, more than when I can be perſonating the good old Man, that is to ſay, Acting the Part of a Father towards the Youth of either Sex, muſt naturally have a ſingular Regard for thoſe worthy Matrons, my Co-temporaries, whoſe approved Wiſdom and Vertue, induce pru⯑dent Parents, to conſign Children to their Guardianſhip.—The Truth is, That when⯑ever I light upon the leaſt Commerce with this beneficial Set of People, I am willing to improve it, both for their Sakes, and my Own, that we pick out of one another, ſome⯑times a lucky Hint, that has been uſeful in conducting one Child to its Welfare, and by puſhing it in the Education of another, make it the Happier, its whole Life after.—For this Reaſon, I was reſolved to diſpatch the [39] Requeſt of the following Letter, as early as poſſible, and becauſe, as the careful Writer of it has young Ladies under her Tuition, I not only conſider Her as a common Correſ⯑pondent, but have for Her that fraternal Re⯑gard, which is felt by an Affectionate Brother.

IT is Nobly and Generouſly obſerved by an Excellent Poet of the preſent Age, that, To do one good Actio [...], is preferable to the writing, however ſublimely, the moſt Glori⯑ous Deeds of others. But methinks, on the other hand, it gives an unſpeakable Pleaſure to deliver in writing, what may give occaſion to good Actions. The honeſt Inclination of Aſpaſia, and her earneſt Deſire, That I would give her a Word of Advice, concur to raiſe in me this Expectation, and therefore, while I ſhall lay down ſome curſory Obſervations, which may be of Service to young People, I am not aſham'd to own, That the little Entertainment, which I offer to that Claſs of my Readers, is a kind of Feaſt to my Self.

[41] ASPASIA very well knows, the firſt and moſt important Point, which conſiſts in ſtudying their Tempers, and the Bent of their Inclinations. The Knowledge once ob⯑tained, the next Step is, to improve and heighten their good Qualities, and artificially to transform the Defects and Errors of their Nature, into Graces and Ornaments. As we muſt naturally Love thoſe, whom we deſire to inſtruct; and, as it is natural not to love thoſe, who obtrude Inſtruction upon us, but to liſten with Attention to thoſe whom we Love, and to gather Inſtruction from them, as it were without their Knowledge; It is, for theſe Reaſons, methinks Neceſſary, that the Method, generally obſerved in theſe Caſes, ſhould be Reverſed; that is to ſay, The In⯑ſtruction of the Child ſhould be the Conſe⯑quence of a Tutreſs's Love towards it, and not her Love be the Conſequence of its taking her Inſtructions: Theſe Directreſſes of Youth ſhould begin, where they generally end. They give their Advices plainly and bluntly, and as thoſe happen to take Root direct their Affe⯑ctions or Reſentments: But they ſhould, firſt, Practice upon the Affections of their Wards, gain their Hearts, and make their own Love ſeen, and afterwards ſteal their Admonitions into them, under the Covert of Art, keeping them as much as poſſible, unſeen. Inſtruction thus Politically couched, will have a Power, that is Irreſiſtable, and make an amazing Progreſs in tender Minds. Advice, not ſeen by, will be ſure to be ſeen, in them.

[42]TO deſcend to Particulars, in our preſent Caſe: Looking over thoſe Romances and Novels, which her eldeſt Ward delights in, too much, Aſpaſia will certainly find ſome Heroick Examples of Vertue. Theſe ſhe would relate to ſome Friend, in the Secret, with very great Applauſes, ſo as to be Over⯑heard by her fair Pupil, who will be prejudi⯑ced for a Judgment, that ſeems to favour her own, and that ſhe would be glad ſhould do ſo. She will be charmed to hear this, and remaining, as it were, perdue, liſten greedily to it, as the Commendation of her ſelf. When her Mind is thus ſtrongly prejudiced in Be⯑half of her Guardian, when it is warmed, and juſt ready to take the Impreſſion; then, juſt then, the Guardian has an Opportunity of preſſing down the Seal of Vertue. A lit⯑tle proper Female Oratory, in Commendati⯑on of the like Paſſages, ſtill more beautifully expreſſed, in ſuch Books, as ſhe would have her read, will make her long, and beg, of her own accord, to ſee them. As for Exam⯑ple; Aſpaſia might ſay: Such a noble Qua⯑lity is eminently conſpicuous in the Hero of this Romance; but then he appears defective in ſuch other Points: The Hero of ſuch a Novel Revere for ſuch a Part of his Con⯑duct, but he is greatly to blame in other Re⯑ſpects: The principal Character in ſuch a Book of Memoirs, would be a Favourite, and a ſhining Character, but for ſuch and ſuch Blemiſhes and Imperfections. Such a Gal⯑lant, [43] in ſuch a Play, behaves himſelf well throughout the whole Action, and makes me love him at my very Heart; but ſuch a Gal⯑lant has a villainous Deſign at Bottom, up⯑on his Miſtreſs's Honour, and is my mortal Averſion. After having thus remark'd up⯑on Texts, out of the Lady's own Scripture, it is Inexpreſſible, what an Effect it might have, if growing into a ſudden Rapture, Aſpaſia ſhould go on as follows: How does it charm and tranſport one, to find all theſe Vertues, and none of the oppoſite Vices; all theſe Beauties without Deformities, united in that one Favourite Character of mine, the Chri⯑ſtian Hero, deſcribed with all the Force, with which Vertue can be deſcribed, and painted with all the Beauties with which Beauty can be painted?—This Method, or ſuch a Me⯑thod as this, would prompt the liſtening, bookiſh Ward to a Deſire of ſeeing that Tract; ſhe would long for it, ſhe would enquire af⯑ter it, ſhe would beg to read it; ſhe would ſet to reading it already prejudiced in its Fa⯑vour; It would gain upon her, in the Read⯑ing, till ſhe gained, what her Guardian would wiſh, from reading it. As ſhe has true Taſte, this juſt Picture, would beget in her a Con⯑tempt of thoſe coarſe Daubings of a Nove⯑liſt's groſſer Hand. The ſame may be ſaid of the Heroines, celebrated in her favourite Romances. How much more charmingly is the fine Lady, deſcribed in the Marqueſs of Hallifax his Advice to a Daughter, and ſo of [44] others.—What Fruit may not be hoped and expected:—Reading that little Book, called, The Advice to a Daughter, and the Lady's Li⯑brary, is enough to make young Women learn to Know themſelves: STEELE's Chriſtian Heroe, and the Gentleman Inſtructed, teach them abundantly to know Men. A Know⯑ledge of themſelves, will be the Preſervative of their Honour; and a true Knowledge of Men will fortifie them againſt the Treacheries, that are uſed by artful Deceivers, of that Sex, which is almoſt ſure, one Time or other, to be either their RUIN, or their ORNA⯑MENT.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 63.
MONDAY, October 26. 1724.

I INTENDED in this PAPER, to have proceeded upon ſome Hints concerning EDUCATION: But I am forced to break off the Thread, and defer it to another Day. I have many entertaining LETTERS by me, from Edinburgh, and Bath; and two, that I muſt particularly mention from Covent-Gar⯑den, with Relation to my late Diſcourſe on the Play-Houſe Management; One is written by Mr. Sock, in a ſad, and lamentable Stile, and the other by Mr. Buskin, filled with ſuch Heroick Rants, that, however they excite no Terror, will as well anſwer the End of being exhibited to publick View; and move Diver⯑ſion, like ſome Modern Tragedies. With all theſe I ſhould be glad to oblige the Publick, as ſoon as poſſible; but the following EPISTLE, ſeems intended to Redreſs, in ſome Meaſure, an injured Perſon, and I think it a Part of Duty to quit other Speculations, though [46] never ſo inviting, where it lies in my Power to aſſiſt, towards reſcuing an honeſt Man, out of real, or even imaginary Diſtreſs, ſince the latter is often equally painful with the former.

[48]WHEN I reflect upon the many Advan⯑tages ariſing to Mankind, from the Skill of a True Profeſſor of the Surgeon's Art, he ap⯑pears ſo Uſeful a Member of the Common-Wealth, that he makes no inconſiderable Fi⯑gure among the moſt conſiderable, like Ma⯑chaon among the Heroes in Homer. The Per⯑ſon, this Letter relates to, far from meriting to be ſpoken ill of, deſerves that reſpect, which the beſt of all Books requires to be paid to the Phyſician, if it was for nothing elſe, but having, not long ſince, preſerved the Life of a Member, of a very noble Fa⯑mily, in which Wiſdom and Eloquence have been a long Time Hereditary.

AS I am brought once more, unwill⯑ingly, to touch upon that hated Subject, DETRACTION, I think I cannot do better, in order to deter People, from it, than to place before their Eyes a Picture of its Defor⯑mity, as it was drawn by that Great Maſter APELLES, and Deſcribed by an excellent old Author.

IT is thus, APELLES deſcribed DE⯑TRACTION, by which he himſelf was brought into extream Danger, having been falſely accuſed to King Ptolomy, of Egypt, who, upon his refuting the Accuſation, or⯑dered him as many Talents, as would amount to Twelve Thouſand Pounds Sterling, and that his Accuſer ſhould be his perpetual Bonds-man.

IF ſome curious Engraver would form a Plate, upon this Model; the beſt Method would be for Perſons this way Injured, to [50] purchaſe a Ptint, and fix it, like a Play-Bill, at the Door of any noted Offender; after which, it ſhould be a Rule for the Neigh⯑bourhood, never to believe a Report that came from that Quarter, whether in Praiſe or Diſpraiſe of any Body.

BY this Means, the TONGUES of Evil-Speakers, and the PENS of Evil-Writers, would become Uſeleſs, and Unregarded; and Innocence, having nothing to fear, might look, untrembling, upon Slander.

The Plain Dealer. No 64.
FRIDAY, October 30. 1724.

AMONG a Thouſand ſhining Proofs of the Capacity of Woman's Wit, I have met with no Inſtance more extraordinary, than the SUBJECT of the following LET⯑TER: Which I therefore publiſh, in Ho⯑nour of the Advance of Feminine Learning. Tho', when I conſider the Force of the Sex's Natural Magick, I obſerve with ſome Jea⯑louſy, their Pretenſions to the ART of CONJURING.

A Common-Council Man of this Great City, writes to me, with much Impatience, to be inform'd, Whether there is no Statute, [52] in Force, againſt the Study of the BLACK ART? I was at a Loſs, what Art he meant, 'till he went on to inform me, That he can never make his Viſits, to a certain Lady, of his Acquaintance, but his Wife knows where he has been; and ſhews him, for Proof of it, a Man and a Woman, in a China Cup, diſco⯑ver'd, cloſer than they ſhou'd be, by means of certain Tell-tale HIEROGLYPHICKS, in the ſettling of her Coffee-Grounds.

APPLICATION has been alſo made to me, by the Husbands of ſome foreſeeing La⯑dies, who go to Bed, to take Counſel; and are as Wiſe, when aſleep, as waking.—One poor Gentleman, in particular, has been kept at Home, theſe ſix Days, upon a Dream which his Wife had, That an Owl flew out of her Boſom, and met with a Jack-Daw, that pick'd his Eyes out. This has abſolutely con⯑vinc'd her, that her Spouſe will receive ſome Miſchief, the firſt Time he ventures out of her Company.—In fine, our Women are be⯑come a Nation of Sages! And Men muſt ſhortly be Dependant on them, not for DELIGHT only, but INSTRUCTION.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 65.
MONDAY, November 2. 1724.

AFTER having thank'd my Correſpondent, for the Continuance of his agreeable Intelli⯑gence, I ſhall cloſe with a ſhort Remark on on what he ſays, concerning our Language.

I AGREE with Him entirely, that many of of our old Words had the ſame Original with theirs; for all that Part of Scotland, to the the Southward of the Frith, was as much Saxon as we were: So then the Foundation of our Language being the ſame, it is not ſo reaſonable, as I wiſh it were, to allow this ingenious Gentleman the Claim he makes, in [68] Behalf of his Country—That the Elegance and Maſtery, which are by Nature in Us, are a Virtue in North Britain.

THE Nature is certainly alike to both Na⯑tions: The Virtue is moſt due, where the Im⯑provement was firſt made. The Nobility and Gentry of Scotland have, at leaſt, for Ages paſt, been as learned as the Engliſh, and much more accuſtom'd to foreign Travel and Corre⯑ſpondence. Theſe are the great, and indeed the only Cauſes of Refinement in a Lan⯑guage—For Trade and Luxury are much more likely to corrupt it, by the Confuſion they introduce, mixing Degrees and Diſtin⯑ctions, and contracting our Care to regard no⯑thing ſo much as INTEREST.

SINCE then the Scotch Language was once the very ſame with the Engliſh; and ſince their People have been more intimately Con⯑verſant, than ours, among Foreign Nations; and have always enjoy'd the ſame Aſſiſtance of Learning, and yet have been behind us in the Improvement of our common Tongue; it follows by Neceſſity, That the Praiſe of Virtue is in ours—But it is a Birth-right, which, like Kentiſh Gavel-Kind, we muſt equally divide with our Brothers, in the next Generation: for, tho' they were ſlow Setters out, they have prov'd Themſelves as good Runners, and will be a-breaſt with us, in the Race, and loſe no Ground for the Future.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 66.
FRIDAY, November 6. 1724.

THE Complaint of AMANDA in the following LETTER, is of a Na⯑ture as New, as the Foundation of it is Juſt. The Guilt which it ſpeaks of, is frequent enough: But this fine-ſpirited, and diſcerning Lady, has placed it on the Perſon who has, hitherto, been look'd on as moſt Innocent, and deſerving Pity.—The Truth is, there are a thouſand Reſemblances of Virtue, which if unmaſq'd, by ſo diſtinguiſhing a Hand as AMANDA's, wou'd aſſume their proper Faces, and be known for Vices, and Follies.—I will entertain my Readers, with this Lady's Excellent LETTER, juſt as I receiv'd it, and afterward, in Obedience to her Command, conſider the Complaint, which is the SUBJECT of it.

IT the Admiration, which is due to ſuch a Merit as this Lady's, did not place her above Pity, I cou'd be ſorry for that Perſecution, which ſhe Laments, in ſo Elegant, and Pathe⯑tic, a Manner. The Gentleman, who is ſo unhappy as to be the Subject of her Com⯑plaint, will be the laſt, that feels the Force of it.—There is a Love of ourſelves, deeply rooted in human Nature, that impoſes on us, firſt, and, then, emboldens us to impoſe on Others. We do not approve the Faults, which we are guilty of; But, which is almoſt as bad, we cannot ſee them:—We join hear⯑tily in, with thoſe, who condemn the very Follies which are moſt remarkably our own; and are all the while inſenſible how ridicu⯑lous we appear to Others, by adhering pub⯑lickly [73] to the Practice of what we, as pub⯑lickly, continue to Cenſure.

IT is, I muſt confeſs, the hardeſt Leſſon of Nature, to correct the Extravagancies of Love.—Where this Paſſion is Real, It will be the Sovereign of the Mind. It moulds the Soul to its own Purpoſes; and lends its own Eyes to the Underſtanding. Neither does it depend, for its Violence, or Moderation, on the Capacity of the Lover, but on the Pro⯑portion, in which it actuates him. The Wiſe Man, in this Caſe, has no Prerogative, above the Fool. It is in Love, as it in Madneſs, The more Exalted the Genius, the more un⯑bounded the Raging!—A Wiſe Man may much better defend himſelf, than a Fool can; But, when He yields, there is no Difference; becauſe Opinion, in this Paſſion, always ſtands in the Place of Reaſon.

THIS being the Caſe, AMANDA has ſmall Encouragement; who, by appealing to what is Reaſonable, would diſſwade her Lover from what is Neceſſary.—Her Charms have deprived his Life of every Comfort, but what She gives it; and, while He loves, at the Rate ſhe ſays he does, it will be im⯑poſſible for him, to think himſelf ſo much in the Wrong, as ſhe finds him.

IT would, certainly, be a Great Happi⯑neſs, if Men, who love, without Hope, could deſiſt, without Miſery: For, beſides that AMANDA's Argument has thrown an Air of ungenerous Selfiſhneſs, on the Obſti⯑nacy [74] of ſuch Addreſſes, there is This further Miſchief in it, That a Lover, whom an avowed Hatred cannot repulſe, in his Appli⯑cation, cuts off his Right, when he becomes a Husband, to complain of, or return, Ill Uſage,—Is ſhe too Cold, too Unkind, too Diſdainful, for a Wife?—How much grea⯑ter is His Fault, who foreſaw all This, and, yet, would make her one?—He loved Her, before She pitied Him, and conſented to be⯑come His, notwithſtanding the moſt open Profeſſion of her Inſenſibility! And how Baſe, and Ungenerous muſt it be, To make the Continuance of that Inſenſibility his Pre⯑tence for treating her Ill, after ſhe has put her ſelf under his Protection; which, while ſhe refus'd, and deteſted him, had no Power to move his Reſentment!

EITHER, He ought, with a manly Forti⯑tude, to tear himſelf from the Remembrance of an Object, ſo inſenſible of his Torments; or, in Gratitude, for a Compliance, that was Involuntary, and the Effect, rather, of Compaſſion, than of Love, He ſhould re⯑ſolve to ſupport himſelf under the Misfortune of her Averſion, without permitting his own Sentiments to be imbittered, by the Effects of it; till, by a Progreſs of perſwaſive Soft⯑neſs, He ſhall have touched her reluctant Heart, and prepared it to receive Impreſſions, as well of Love, as of Gratitude.

BUT, how Monſtrous is the Brutal Figure, which I have ſeen ſome Husbands make! [75] who, when Lovers, were the Pooreſt, and moſt Abject, of all Slaves!—When they ſhould be Defenders, they are Tyrants; and when it was reaſonable for them to have been Provoked, they were ſtupidly Submiſſive!—How contemptible is their unmanly Weak⯑neſs! A moroſe and reſtleſs Peeviſhneſs, makes up the Behaviour they expect to charm by! They contract a ſurly, ſower Habit, from the Diſappointments they meet in Life; and, inſtead of ſoftening the Edge of Afflicti⯑on, toward the Woman, who is bound to ſhare their Sufferings, they double them on her Head, from whom, (in Honour, and Hu⯑manity) they ought to ward off Sorrow, by a noble Sweetneſs, and endearing Tenderneſs in their whole Behaviour!

BUT the pleaſanteſt Stupidity of all, is, That when, by a Length of Savage Cruel⯑ties, they have made themſelves compleatly Odious; they are impudent enough to won⯑der, How it happens that their Wives appear no fonder of them?

THERE is no Part of our Life that requires a nicer Conduct than our Choice of the Per⯑ſon, with whom we are to vow an inſeperable Union; and, yet, there is Nothing, which we venture on, with more Raſhneſs; or which we examine, with ſo little Foreſight!—And, hence it is, That MATRIMONY, with equal Satyr, and Juſtice, has been com⯑pared, by one of our Old Poets, To a Crowd in the Street, which excites a Curioſity, in [76] every Paſſer-by, to add one Fool to the Number: But, they are no ſooner in the midſt of the Preſs, than they grow uneaſy at their Situation, and are as Eager to elbow out again, as they were, before, to gain Ad⯑miſſion.

MANY are the Pleaſantries, which the Truth, and Frequency, of this unlucky Ob⯑ſervation have given Occaſion to, among Men of Wit; who, having laugh'd, a while, at Others, grow ſilly enough, themſelves, to be alſo laughed at, in their Turns.—But, in all the Multitude of Sarcaſtick Fancies, which I have met with, upon this beaten Subject, I remember none, that is ſo uncommon, and founded on ſo humorous a Piece of Extrava⯑gance, as an EPITAPH, which I ſaw, at Rome; where a Man, and his Wife, who were buried, together, are repreſented quar⯑relling, in their Grave.—The Original is in Latin, but I will tranſlate it, for the Service of Coquets, and Old Maids, who cannot fail to make Good Uſe of it, on a THEME, which they delight in handling.

The Plain Dealer. No 67.
MONDAY, November 9. 1724.

BY this Time, I ſuppoſe, I paſs for an Out-of-the-Way Old Humouriſt, who has No⯑thing in him, but a few odd Whimſies, which he takes Delight to be noted for. But, now the Town begins to fill, I deſign to take more [78] State upon me: And before the Winter is half out, I ſhall cauſe it to appear, pretty Plainly, That I can make free with Trade and Poli⯑ticks, as well as with Wit and Impertinence.

I WAS walking, the other Day, near the Royal Exchange, and took up a little Pamphlet, that lay in my Way, at a Bookſeller's Shop, Intituled, New, and Accurate Obſervations, on the Coaſt of GUINEA.—I was pleas'd with this Subject: For, tho' I inform'd my Reader, my firſt ſetting out, That I was an Enemy to the Eaſt-India Company, (by which hangs a Secret, that may be diſclos'd in ſome future Paper) yet I am a Lover of THE ROYAL AFRICAN: And have good Reaſons, for both Opinions.

THE Gentleman, who is Author of the above-mention'd Treatiſe, is a Phyſician, new⯑ly return'd from the Coaſt he writes of.—He ſeems to be a Perſon of Learning and Experi⯑ence; and expreſſes himſelf with a Warmth of Spirit, that carries in it a Generous Plainneſs, and a rough, but Manly, Integrity.—When I began to peruſe his Book, I thought He ap⯑pear'd too Angry: But, before I had read it out, the ill Uſage He complains of, ſeem'd incapable of being remember'd, without an Agitation of ſuch Paſſions, as muſt leave him fully acquitted.—The Abuſes and Miſma⯑nagements, which this Gentleman enumerates, are ſuch, as I am ſorry to hear of, becauſe their Conſequences muſt affect the Company, in too ſenſible a Manner.

[79]I HAVE often reflected, not without the utmoſt Amazement, from what ſtrange Cau⯑ſes it ſhou'd happen, That the Credit of that Company has been ſunk, to ſo low an Ebb; ſince nothing can be more demonſtrable, than that It has Advantages, beyond Compariſon, above all others, to make it ſelf the moſt Flouriſhing!—If any Deficience, within themſelves, with Regard to Stock, or Encou⯑ragement, is the Prevention of their Good Pur⯑poſes, methinks, their Complaints cou'd be no ſooner heard, than they wou'd be ſure of a Remedy! For, even as they, now ſtand, no Company exiſts, that is of ſuch Importance to the Nation.—If the Intereſt of England, in Reſpect to Trade, depends moſt, as it certain⯑ly does, upon her American Plantations, thoſe Plantations do, as certainly, depend on the Slave-Trade from AFRICA. A Trade! that ſtrengthens us, in the very Vitals, and firſt Principle of Government: For it is perpe⯑tually adding Encreaſe to the Numbers of our uſeful People; far beyond the progreſſive Growth of our ſlow, and Natural Multipli⯑cation.

THE Nation, too, (in Point of Wealth, as well as Power) is, to an infinite Degree, more advantag'd than The Company, by Effect of this Negro Traffick. When the Company have ſold a Slave, That Profit, which they once make, is All the Benefit, which he can, ever, bring them.—But, for the Benefit of the Nation, there is no computing what may be [80] gain'd, by him. Not only the Wretch, him⯑ſelf, but his Children's Children, after him, down to the lateſt Generations, are, for ever, doom'd to Work; and All their Product is the Nation's.—The Difference is Vaſt, and Infinite!

THE Extent of Country, comprehend⯑ed within the Limits of This Company's Char⯑ter, is Prodigious and Aſtoniſhing! For above Thirty Degrees, on one Side, from the Line, and about Twenty, from the other, all the Coaſt is within their Limits: So that they have all the Good, Variety, of Soils, and of Latitude, which the whole World can afford them.—They have, conſequently, within their Bounds, a proper Earth and Climate, for every rich Product, that we pick up here and there, at the remoteſt Diſtances, from one Side of the Globe to the other.—They have not, it is true, a Claim of Property to the Lands: But, how eaſily might they purchaſe it, as far as cou'd be neceſſary, at Rates too inconſi⯑derable to deſerve the naming?—They have Iſlands too, and Settlements, never ſubject to the Natives Inſults.—Why might not theſe be cultivated? Why not Rice, Sugar, Indigo, Cotton, Ginger, and Tobacco, brought hence, as well as from America? And how much ſooner, and eaſier?

IN one ſhort and comprehenſive View, may be ſeen a Demonſtration of the Diffe⯑rence, as to the Company's Profit, between the Slaves they tranſport to America, and thoſe [81] whom they might employ, if they pleas'd, to raiſe Products, for their own Benefit.

TO ſay nothing of the Charge of Shipping them, which wou'd be ſav'd, upon All, ſo employ'd, in Africa; nor to inſiſt on the ma⯑feſt Advantage, of cheaper Freight, and ſhort⯑er Voyages, what can be plainer than this Way of Reaſoning?—Compute the Company's Profit, by the Sale of a Negro, to be Equal with what might be Gain'd by him, in a Year's Work, over and above his Maintain⯑ance, and the Intereſt of his Prime Coſt, (which it certainly never is) yet, the Negro, that WORKS for the Company, coſts no more, than One, who is SOLD, for them: Whereas this Laſt is wholly Loſt, from that Day forward, to their Intereſt; while the Firſt, returns them Yearly, the ſame Profit, during Life, without new Charge, to Balance it.

I SPOKE, juſt now of Products, which are commonly rais'd, by our Planters in America; and might, as certainly, be rais'd in Africa; But there are Eaſtern Harveſts, of much greater Conſequence, which Time, I hope, will teach This Company to reap, without more Difficulty, than may gradually be ſur⯑mounted!—Why not the richeſt of the Eaſt Indian Spices, Pepper, Nutmegs, Cloves, and Cinnamon, procur'd and planted there? They have Soil and Climate exactly the ſame, with thoſe in which they grow: Nay, they have wild Spices, riſing naturally, under their [82] Agent's Eyes, to be as it were, an Indication, and puſh 'em forward, to Attempt it!

BUT, if they will not be perſwaded to tranſplant Advantages, at leaſt they might poſ⯑ſeſs themſelves of thoſe, which lie before them. They have Gold, which the Natives gather and bring down to their Forts and Factories. I know what Difficulties attend the View, I am about propoſing: And I know too, that tho' they are Conſiderable, they are far from Unſur⯑mountable. What hinders, then, but that the Uplands might be diſcover'd; and perhaps the Gold Mines found, and work'd upon, by the Natives themſelves, for the Company's Bene⯑fit, in Exchange, for what thoſe Natives va⯑lue more, but which wou'd coſt little to their Furniſhers? And this Attempt, tho' peacea⯑bly eſtabliſh'd and purſued, might, for more certain Safety, be protected by the Awe of an Armed Force: A very ſmall one, were ſufficient here, where Numbers are of little Strength, for want of Courage or of Order.

HOW much more Uſeful, than ſome of their preſent Factories, would Forts and Settle⯑ments be, a Hundred Miles, or more, in Di⯑ſtance, One above the Other, along the Ni⯑ger, or ſome other of thoſe Prodigious Rivers, which flow a Courſe of two or three Thou⯑ſand Miles, through the Heart of this vaſt and unknown Continent? How eaſie were it for the People in theſe Forts, to poſſeſs and cultivate, a large Tract round them? To diſ⯑cover the Bordering Country and Trade, and [83] make Leagues with the Neighbouring Prin⯑ces? To maintain a regular and frequent Correſpondence with each other, by means of Light Veſſels, with flat Bottoms, adapted to the Navigation propereſt for thoſe Rivers: And once a Year, or oftener, to ſend down their General Stores, to the Company's Ships, at the Entrance, and receive back, with the Return of their ſmall Veſſels, what ſhould be ſent them from Home, either for their Sup⯑port or Traffick!—What new, and number⯑leſs Nations might the Company thus Trade with, at firſt Hand, to their unſpeakable En⯑richment?—And were ſuch an Entrance once open'd to them, by expert and reſolute Adventurers, what popular Encreaſe of Con⯑ſumption, would it not occaſion, in our Wool⯑len, and many other, Manufactures?

THERE are no Impoſſibilies, in Deſigns, of this Nature, but to narrow and confin'd Underſtandings; and to Spirits of a heavy Fabrick. But this Company has the Honour to be aſſiſted by Great Genius's, Wiſe, and Enterprizing enough to mark out the Way, to Meaſures that might ſoon recover them from the preſent Ill Proſpect of their Affairs, and make the Memory of the ROYAL AFRICAN COMPANY Dear and Glorious to all Poſterity.

IT is a Work of too much Length, for ſuch a Paper as mine is, to prove how practicable theſe Things are; But I ſhall, ſometimes, occaſionally, touch the Subject, with the Bre⯑vity [84] I am confin'd to: Becauſe, when I con⯑ſider into what Hands my Hints may fall, I flatter my ſelf, they may grow Fruitful, and become a Service to my Country.

THE Duke of CHANDOS, in the Head of Theſe, has ſo Fine, and ſo Enlarg'd a Spi⯑rit; and is ſo Great, and ſo Acknowledg'd, an Honour to our Nation, That it is ſcarce poſſible to expreſs, in his Praiſe, ſo much as every wiſe Man muſt Think of him!—I dare not, therefore, attempt ſo hard a Task as his full Character: But, while I mention him, I am on Fire, with ſuch an Admiration of his Generous Qualities, that I cannot forbear to cloſe my Paper, with ſuch faint Out-lines, as can be Sketch'd, by One who draws at too much Diſtance.

IT is not alone, in the Princely Grandeur of his Oeconomy, that this Illuſtrious Lord reflects a Brightneſs on his Honour'd Order, and points out to us, in a ſhining Light, what a Nobleman was meant to be. Appear⯑ance, He well knows, can be no more than the Shadow of Subſtantial Glory.—He looks inward, therefore, and draws out, into Pra⯑ctice and Example, ſuch a ſurprizing Train of Vertues, That, inſtead of ſupporting his Di⯑ſtinction upon the Title, which was ſo juſtly due to his, He has added to it much more Honour, than ſome, who wear it with a Colder Spirit, have been able to borrow from it.

THO' Deſcended from a Noble Line, one of the moſt Ancient of the Kingdom! He diſ⯑dain'd [85] to owe his Greatneſs to the Grandeur of his Anceſtors: Nor ever thought of his Fore-Father's Honours, but as an Archer rai⯑ſes his Eye to the Point of ſome high Steeple, when he would ſhoot his Arrow over it.

HOW Inconſiderable, in ſo Generous a Taſte as His, are all the Glitterings of a De⯑pendant Greatneſs! How much Nobler, after His, more than Imperial, Manner, to adorn and ſerve this Country, his own un⯑bounded Expence, than to be more buſie, to perhaps leſs Purpoſe, and be Paid, for his Want of Liberty, at the Head of an Admini⯑ſtration!

THE World lies open, to his Eye, and All its Intereſts are exactly known to him: But nothing can he ſee, in any Part, or happy Corner of it, more belov'd and worthy, than he himſelf is!—There is this too, Peculiar in him, That his Mind, with all its Vaſtneſs, is ſerenely Centrical and Regular: His Pur⯑poſes are as Rational as Great. His Under⯑ſtanding is Clear. His Penetration is Bound⯑leſs. His Reſolution is Ardent; and his Ap⯑plications are Calm and Stedfaſt!

HE knows, and marks, the niceſt Diffe⯑rence between Dignity and Pride, Generoſity and Oſtentation; Condeſcenſion and Weak⯑neſs!—He reconciles State with Eaſineſs; and teaches Reverence to Freedom! How Ex⯑tenſive is his Wiſdom! How Unwearied his Induſtry! How Magnificent his Liberality! How Enlarg'd are his Idea's! How Unre⯑ſtrain'd [86] by Prejudice! How Unconfin'd to Party!—What Aſtoniſhment would it pro⯑duce, in the Minds of ordinary Men, could a a Hiſtory be given the World, of the Im⯑menſity of thoſe Princely Expences, which might be charg'd to his Humanity!—The Charity of the Common World would bluſh, and hide it ſelf at the Compariſon: For the Munificence of this prodigious Spirit, would ſwallow up all other Benignity, as the Enli⯑ven'd Rod of Moſes devour'd the Serpents of the Egyptians.

THESE are his Known and Publick Beau⯑ties! But, what Amiable Private Qualities muſt there be, in ſo exalted a Mind! which are hid from the diſtant World, and appear only to thoſe Few, thoſe very Few, of his Friends, who not alone are converſant with him; but have Souls ſympathetical enough to conceive the Glowings of his untold Purpoſes.

UNDER the Influence of ſuch a Power, what may not the Gentlemen, of the African Houſe expect, would they Reſolve upon ſuch Meaſures, as may ſuit the Glory of a Company, of whom it will be ſaid hereafter, as was once ſaid, of TYRE and SIDON, Whoſe Mer⯑chants were Princes, and whoſe Traders, The Nobles of the Earth!

The Plain Dealer. N^o 68.
FRIDAY, November 13. 1724.

THERE is no kind of Wit, which re⯑quires a livelier Force, or more com⯑prehenſive Turn of Spirit, than That which we inſcribe on Monuments, to expreſs the Characters of the Dead: And I am ſorry I have Reaſon to obſerve, That almoſt every Church, in England, is a Witneſs of our De⯑ficience in it.—The Fire of Fancy ſhould, on theſe Occaſions, be extreamly Intenſe, and Subtile, becauſe, wanting Continuity, it has all its Effect at a Flaſh; and can therefore have no Medium: It muſt be either piercing or contemptible.

WHEN I ſtand before the Tomb of Mr. Dry⯑den, in Weſtminſter-Abbey, I am in Debate with my ſelf concerning that Delicacy of Ve⯑neration, which was the Cauſe of its being inſcrib'd with no more than his Immortal Name.—The Noble Founder thought it Superfluous to add any Thing, after that: [88] Becauſe there ſcarce lives a Reader, who can be unacquainted with his Character.—Yet, methinks, on the other Hand, the Expreſſion of a Decent Gratitude, may be held Due to a Benefactor, however rais'd above the Want, or Expectation of our Benevolence. And, to carry it yet farther, tho' no Profanation cou'd be more unpardonable, than the Pro⯑duct of a Vulgar Genius, on a Subject ſo exal⯑ted, there is, at leaſt, One Spirit, in the Na⯑tion, greatly Equal to the Labour! And This, the Founder of the Monument muſt have known, more certainly than any other Perſon, becauſe more nearly converſant with, and more ſufficiently a Judge of, him.

I WOU'D not, after this, ſay, I mean Mr. Pope, but that, in the Courſe of my Papers, I ſhall let him perceive, that I am no Flatterer.—I have wiſh'd to ſee His Soul do Honour to his Father's Duſt, and animate a Marble, which can never be more dignified, than it is, unleſs His own Remains ſhou'd viſit it!—When my Paſſions feel his Force, in Eloiſe's ſtruggling Conflicts, I attend him, thro' the Depths of Nature, with the Reve⯑rence which is due to God-like Wiſdom and Philoſophy! And, while my Fancy flames, and glitters, in the ſportive Vaſtneſs of his Levity, where Belinda's Hair attracts him, I am tranſported at his Wit, and Gaiety, and grow in Love with his Good Breeding! Yet, Five Parts in Six, I doubt, of all that Admi⯑ration which has been paid to theſe inimitable [89] Flights of Genius, is Implicite, and mere Ac⯑cident: For there are Strokes, ſo fine and de⯑licate, that like Angels, they muſt be invi⯑ſible to the Eyes of Common Mortals, and ſeen only by thoſe happy Few, whom Heaven vouchſafes a Viſit to!

I HAVE been ſhewn an EPITAPH lately, which is ſaid to have been written by this Gentleman, for the Tomb of a Friend of his: The Thought, on which it turns, is very happy, and extreamly Natural.—It has been publiſh'd, in ſome of our Weekly-Papers; but not ſo full as I here give it.

THE Manuſcripts, of this fine EPITAPH, which are handed about Town, have, already, various Readings: And in ſome, the two laſt Lines are wholly omitted. But, I can never ſuppoſe a Caſtration, of that Importance, Ge⯑nuine; becauſe the Cloſe, at the firſt Break, has a Strength, ſo full, and diſtinguiſh'd, that [90] it left an abſolute Neceſſity, for a vigorous Turn of Thought, in the Concluſion of that which follows it: Whereas nothing could ap⯑pear more languid, and unequal to its Au⯑thor, than to have ended, after ſo fine a Stroke, with ſaying no more, than this: Let your Friend write your Epitaph; and tell the World, that he is as ſorry for your Death, as your Father is.

I HAVE not, I think, at home, read any Piece, of this Kind, more ſtriking, and ſtrongly rais'd upon the Force of its touching Simplicity! But I remember to have ſeen two Epitaphs, both, Foreign; which gave me a Delight, of the ſame Nature.—I ſhall tranſlate them, as near I can, into Eng⯑liſh. This, firſt, is by a French Poet, on the Death of Cardinal Richlieu: And has in it, a certain Mixture of the Great, the Natural, and the Surprizing, which is very rarely to be met with.

THE Second, which now follows, is of Spaniſh Original; and was the Epitaph [91] of a beautiful Neice of the Famous Oli⯑varez.

WHERE there is Juſtneſs, and Propriety, in theſe Rays and Beamings of the Wit, they break out upon our Fancy, with irreſiſtable Force and Luſtre! We are often dazzled, for a Moment, even with the falſe Imitation of it, where the proper Sence is mingled, and confounded with the Metaphorical. But we no ſooner examine it, cloſely, than the Coun⯑terfeit Colours vaniſh, and we deſpiſe our own, and the Poet's Weakneſs: Whereas, when the Thought is juſt, as well as ſhining; when it is founded on Truth, in Nature, and only raiſes our Admiration by its Grandeur, Grace, and Nobleneſs, the Heat, contracted, and pointed ſtrong, upon a near, and ſingle, Center, inflames and catches, like a Burning Glaſs; and Stocks and Stones, are melted down by it, almoſt as ſuddenly as Gold and Silver.

IT were a Work of General Uſe, and no unpleaſant Entertainment, to make a Mu⯑ſter of thoſe Falſe Thoughts, or affected Turns of Wit, and paſs 'em, in Review, [92] oppos'd to ſuch, as are True and Solid.—The Common Taſte would ſtand corrected, and conſent to give up their Favourites; for Few can want Good Senſe to diſtinguſh, when they ſee 'em together; and mark, that Truth, (which is Nature repreſented exactly as ſhe appears) is the Life and Soul, of Thinking; and Greatneſs, Delicacy, and Delightfulneſs, the fine Dreſs, and Ornaments, of it.

THE black Eyes of the Spaniſh Ladies, have a Jack-o'the-Lanthern Brightneſs, that is very apt to miſlead the Poets of that warm Country. The following Sonnet is a Maſter⯑piece, of its Kind, and may deſerve to ſtand as an Example of that Falſe Wit above-mention'd: As conſiſting, chiefly, of contra⯑dictory Idea's, which are forc'd together, like Oil, and Spirit, by the Violence of the Writer's Fancy; but ſeperate, and diſtinguiſh themſelves, as ſoon as they have Time to ſettle.

[93]BUT tho' ſuch Turns as Theſe are unnatu⯑ral, and therefore ridiculous, when apply'd to any ſerious Purpoſe, yet there are Turns, both upon Words and Thoughts, that, pre⯑ſerving the Truth of Meaning, are ſo far from being Faults, that in all the lighter Kinds of Poetry, they are extremely graceful and deſirable. Thus in the famous Epigram of Auſonius, relating to Dido, who fled from Phaenicia to Carthage, upon the Death of her Lover Sichaeus, and, afterwards, died her ſelf, upon Aeneas's forſaking her, the Thought is juſt and ſolid; and tho' it glitters, and is ſo full of Point, yet, it bears, without dimi⯑niſhing, every Light that it can be view'd in.—I will give both the Latin and the Engliſh, becauſe our Language has been judg'd incapable of expreſſing it, without more Compaſs, and Weakneſs, than the Original.

THERE is ſomething too, of an elevated Smartneſs, and that will bear the niceſt Exa⯑mination, in the Thought of a French Poet, concerning a Cardinal, already nam'd; who was accus'd of holding too great an Aſcendant over his Maſter.

IT is this Power, in the Conception! This comprehenſive Graſp of Meaning! where more than can be expreſs'd, in Pages, is crowded into a ſingle Sentiment, and inſinuated to the Reader, ſo as to ſwell, and expand it ſelf, in his Underſtanding! It is This, that is True Poetry! That makes up that illu⯑ſtrious Art, which is therefore juſtly, call'd Divine, becauſe it ſhakes, and moulds the Soul, and bows to its Purpoſes; tranſports us out of our ſelves, and raiſes a Creation, round us, which is wholly of its own eſta⯑bliſhing!

BUT how different from this, is Poetry, as it is commonly underſtood and practis'd!—A trifling Skill in Meaſure, and an eaſie Sweep in Rhyming, are no more what makes the Poet, than the Chimes can be call'd the Church, or the Chariot makes the Doctor. He, who thinks, in a vulgar Manner, will be ſo far from concealing his Emptineſs, by the Verſe, he pretends to charm by, that like the dirty Fool, in the Goſpel, who invited himſelf to the Marriage Feaſt, and ſat down, among the fineſt Gueſts, without a Wedding Garment, he will be put pointed out, with [95] the more Contempt; and ſerve to ſet off the vaſt Diſparity, between himſelf, and thoſe he preſumes to mix with.

WHOEVER does but reflect on the diffe⯑rent Figure, France now makes among the Princes of Europe, compar'd with That, which every Body remembers Her to have made, within theſe Twenty Years, will, in Juſtice to a moſt Heroick Monarch, diveſt himſelf of the ungenerous Littleneſs of Common, National, Prejudices, and obſerve with Plea⯑ſure, That Great Prince's Influence, over the Wit and Genius, as well as the Courage and Obedience of his People.—When I read the Birth-Day-Songs of our Engliſh Laureats, I ſee the Poorneſs of their Salary, thro' the Slightneſs of their Sentiments. But the moſt light, and jovial, Performances of our Neigh⯑bour Nation, when they had their King for their Theme, ſeem'd to glow, with a Warmth of Gratitude, as if Reaſon ſtrove with Inven⯑tion, which ſhou'd praiſe him with moſt Co⯑piouſneſs.

I DESIGN'D, when I began this Paper, to ſay a great deal more, than I have left my ſelf Room for, concerning Epitaphs, and Elegies; but I muſt refer, what remains, to ſome other Opportunity: And will conclude, with one of the Sublimeſt Pieces of Extra⯑vagance, that ever heated the Imagination of of a Poet.—The Author was a Portugueſe, and, in deſcribing the Aſſault of a Fortreſs, by his Countrymen, ſpeaks of the Ditch, in a Flight, at once ſo wild, and yet ſo ſtrong, that it is impoſſible to find a Proof, more pregnant, that Genius without Judgment, can do nothing conſiderable, in Poetry.

The Plain Dealer. No 69.
MONDAY, November 16. 1724.

PATTY AMBLE has many Friends, who will be glad to hear, That the COQUET is come to Town; after two whole Months Abſence. LOVE reviſits me, at the Approach of this wild Creature, like the Return of a Tertian Ague.—So, my Rea⯑ders, in mere Pity, muſt be moderate, when they find me Dull. 'Tis a Rule among us, LOVERS, to be either ſtark Mad, or Stu⯑pid.—See! what an unaccountable Letter the pert Baggage has ſent me!

The Plain Dealer. No 70.
FRIDAY, November 20. 1724.

WHEN I was Young, I remember, among many other Follies, I was very vain, and tenacious of my own Way of Think⯑ing. I was particularly delighted with the Notion I then had of Eloquence: And made no Manner, of Diſpute, but I was, my ſelf, a wonderful Proficient in it. I was raviſh'd, with the flowing Swell of a long-winded Pe⯑riod. I had form'd my Taſte of Stile, upon Cicero; and treated the Commentaries of Cae⯑ſar with an Extraordinary Air of Contempt, when I compar'd them with the moſt frothy Flouriſhes of That ever-abounding Orator.

I HAD not learnt to conſider, That there is a Difference, in the Effect of the ſame Words, when they are ſpoke, and when they are written.—When we ſee, and hear, a powerful Orator, our Reaſon is betray'd, and [108] dazzled, by the Interpoſition of our Sen⯑ſes.—The Grace, and Majeſty, of his Perſon; The never-reſting Variety of his Mo⯑tion; The Aptneſs of his Looks, and Geſture; The Riſe and Fall of his Voice, inſinuating, ſoftening, accuſing, repeating, urging, impreſ⯑ſing, and enforcing, with a Gradation of the ſtrongeſt Paſſions: All theſe combine, to charm, and cheat, us, into Admiration.—But, when, diveſted of theſe Prejudices, we come to read, with a ſteady Judgment, what we heard, with ſo much Emotion, the cold, and languid, Oratory, depending now on Senſe, and wanting all its Aid of Emphaſis, and Utterance, lies taſteleſs on our Under⯑ſtanding; and Repetition, and Change of Lights, are found to fill up the Place of Richneſs, and Variety in the Conception.

ONE of the firſt, who made me bold enough to break out of my Roman Bondage, and reſolve, for the future, to think, all Words, which give a Diſcourſe no Progreſs in its Meaning, rather Burdens, than Embroi⯑dery, was Montaigne, where he is ſpeaking of Authors.

BEFORE I had the Cood Fortune to meet with this Cenſure, (which carries with it no more Boldneſs, than Reaſon) I had ventur'd to appear, in Print, and ſent ſome Treatiſes into the World, which I have never thought [110] of, from that Time forward, without bluſh⯑ing at my Conſcious Weakneſs, in the Affe⯑ctation of a Stile, ſo Wordy, that it moves my own Indignation, very ſtrongly, againſt my ſelf, for what I have, formerly conſider'd, as no ſmall Part of my Merit.

IF my own Works were of Importance enough, I wou'd light 'em up, as a Beacon, to warn Others of the Danger: But, ſince That Honour is more than they deſerve, I diſclaim it, with due Modeſty; and will borrow an Example, of like Nature, from an Author of more Dignity.

THE Gentleman, I mean, is a Reverend and Learned Profeſſor: In whoſe Preface, to an excellent Tranſlation of Virgil, we are told, after, at leaſt, as much Inſtruction, as cou'd, reaſonably, have been expected, That He has, not, yet done with us: For ſomething, more, ſtill, remains, behind.

NOW, tho' much may be ſaid, for this Gentleman's Generoſity, from the Profuſion of his Deſire to ſatisfy us; yet a leſs Degree of Praiſe will be ſufficient, for his Diſcretion: Since it was not kind enough to whiſper in his Ear, that He, who tells us the ſame Thing, Six Times over, will rather provoke us to Indignation than to Gratitude; becauſe it argues an Opinion in him, That he is talking to Perſons, who have a Deafneſs, in their Underſtanding.—When he had aſſur'd us, He had not yet done, There cou'd be no Rea⯑ſon in the World, but the over-obliging Li⯑berality [111] of his Rhetorick, to take the Trou⯑ble of adding, that There was ſomething more: Much leſs, That there was ſomething more, ſtill!—But, when he goes on, with ſo unhop'd! ſo unexpected! a Flow of Boun⯑ty, as to add, That there was ſomething, more, ſtill, that remain'd, The Obligation was enforc'd to ſo ſurprizing a Height, that it muſt have been judg'd Impoſſible to raiſe it more, if we had not found, immediately after, That not only ſomething, more, ſtill, remain'd, but, that it remain'd, behind, alſo!

I COU'D wiſh to ſee it eſtabliſh'd, as a Rule among Writers, That every Word ſhould be a Fault, which, being taken out of a Diſcourſe, left no Void in the Senſe: For, to what End ſhou'd we uſe Expreſſions, which may be cut off, without Maiming, or let ſtand, without Beauty?

WHEN the Pen of One, who attempts to write Hiſtory, happens to be thus, dropſically, diſpoſed, He never fails to drown his Facts, in a Deluge of Affectation.—We have then, long Speeches of great Generals, made to their Armies, in Line of Battle, and juſt on the Point of Engagement; In which the monſtrous Abſurdity of ſuppoſing ſuch a Time fit for formal Harangues, or that they could be Audible to the Hundredth Part of the Numbers they are addreſs'd to, is not ſufficient to deter theſe Orators from diſplay⯑ing all their Tropes, with ſo much Fullneſs and Variety, that, when the Armies come to [112] Charge, the Hiſtorian has not Spirits enough left him, (after the Fatigue of his War of Eloquence) to obſerve, or explain to us, How the Battle, it ſelf, was formed, and fought; or by what Conduct, on one ſide, or Mi⯑ſtake, on the other, The Fortune of the Day delcared in Favour of the Victorious.

TACITUS, of all Hiſtorians, was leaſt guilty of uſing Wordineſs, or Circumlocu⯑tion, in his Relations.—On the contrary, when he errs, it is in the much nobler Ex⯑tream, of too Rich, and Delicate an Exceſs of Senſe.—He refines not on Words, but on Things; he ſpeaks leſs for his Great Perſons, than They ſpoke, for Themſelves: But he thinks for them much more delicately than it is probable They ever thought.—When Gal⯑gacus, at the Head of his Britons, is about to charge the Roman Army, what Number of Eloquent Pages could have inſpired his Followers with Reflections, more apt to in⯑flame them with Heroick Sentiments, than what He flaſh'd upon their Imaginations, in this comprehenſive Encouragement.—Fall on, my Friends, and, in the Shock, think of your ANCESTORS, and your POSTE⯑RITY!

ANTIQUITY can ſcarce produce an In⯑ſtance of more perſwaſive Eloquence, than This Oration, in a ſingle Sentence!—But I have the Pleaſure to ſee, before me, the Speech of a Modern Leader, which, as it had an End very different, ſo its Influence was [113] much more powerful.—Caeſar, and many Generals, before, and after him, inſpired faint-hearted Followers, with Courage: But This is the only Inſtance, I have ever met with, of a Commander, who had Rhetorick enough to talk Brave Fellows, into Cowardice.

THE Hero of our Story (which is, ſin⯑cerely, a true one) was at his Studies, in One of the Univerſities of a Neighbour-Nation, when the late Rebellion broke out, and allarmed the Care of the Government. He was Young, and deſigned for a Pillar of his Mother Kirk.—Grace and Sanctity, had there⯑fore, been more in his Thoughts, than Arms, and Slaughter: But ſome of his Friends, who claimed a Power in raiſing, and diſpo⯑ſing, the Militia, took a Fancy to dignify the young Kirkman, with the Command of a Company, and gave him Orders to march them to a Rendezvous, that was appointed, a few Days after.

THE New Captain (as He tells the Story, Himſelf, with a great Deal of Humour, and Frankneſs) thought Safety more his Buſineſs than Valour: Yet was aſhamed to appear Fearful, when Every Body, round him, look⯑ed as big, as a Bajazet.—He reſolved, there⯑fore, To have Recourſe to his Oratory, and try, if it was not poſſible, under Pretence of Encouraging his Men, to frighten them into Deſertion.—In Purſuance of this Hope, He drew them on the Morning appointed for the March, into a Ring, at the Foot of a little [114] Mount; and, placing himſelf on the Top of it, addreſſed them in the following Ora⯑tion; which he gave me, in his own Hand-Writing:

The Plain Dealer. No 71.
MONDAY, November 23. 1724.

RESERVING, 'till another Opportunity, What I have to ſay, againſt NIGRELLA's Eyes, and her Pink-colour Damask Petticoat, I ſhall ſatisfie my ſelf, (for preſent Vengeance) with admiring, as much as ſhe does, the Verſes, which ſhe ſent, to mortifie me.—How will ſhe be able to ſupport this Diſappointment?—Nay, to nettle her ſtill further, I admire, very much, too, the Lady, on whom the Verſes were made; and I have even heard it affirm'd, by as many Men, as there are Lines, in the Poem, That NIGRELLA's Eyes are no more to be compar'd with that Lady's, than Her Spaniſh Poet's Verſes are as Good as This Gentleman's.

BUT, becauſe I would not be behind-hand with NIGRELLA, in a Readineſs to oblige, I will, in Return for her Entertaining me, at ſo agreeable a Wedding, invite Her to a Funeral, which we owe to the ſame Hand.—She may come, without new-dreſſing her [122] Eyes, ſince they wear Mounring, already.—But, (which will go very hard, with a Lady of ſo lively a Temper!) She muſt lay aſide Her Favourite Pink Colour, and ſet her Face, to look ſadly.

TO cloſe, in a more ſerious Strain,—The following Verſes, and the foregoing, are the Work of a North-Britiſh Muſe, and have, for their Author, the young Gentleman, who writ the ODE, On the Power of Muſick.—It will be needleſs to point out to the Reader, The unuſual Excellence of theſe Two Peices. They both abound with the True, and Su⯑blime, Poetick Spirit! And the Subjects are ſo diametrically Oppoſite, to Each other, That to place them, thus, together, will fur⯑niſh a ſtriking Contraſte of Beauties, in the moſt Joyful, and the moſt Melancholly, of all Humane Circumſtances!

The Plain Dealer. N^o 72.
FRIDAY, November 27. 1724.

AMONG the Beauties of Magnanimi⯑ty, there is none, of a nobler Quality, than the Power of forgiving Injuries.—It throws a Majeſty over the Mind, and illuſtrates the Perſon, with an Air of Sweetneſs, and Serenity.—We ought the more to admire it, ſince, where-ever it is found, It is in Com⯑pany with the Sublimeſt Virtues: There not being Room for it, in a narrow, vulgar, Soul; becauſe, overfill'd with Little Senti⯑ments, ſuch as have their Riſe, and Revolu⯑tion, within the Circle of Self-Intereſt.

BUT the Brutal Paſſion of REVENGE, and a malicious Memory, for Miſchief, is become ſo Shameleſs, and Licentious, that it is com⯑mon to hear Reſolutions of retain'd Malice avow'd, coldly, and in general Expreſſions, Such as, Setting upon People's Skirts,—Finding a Time to be Even with them,—and the like malignant, ſilly, Phraſes, whereby the Burn⯑ings [125] of an inward Hatred ſeem to ſtruggle, for Eruption.

METHINKS, a ſufficient Fortification, againſt ſo abject a Frailty, might be drawn from ſuch Natural Reflections, as Theſe;—That, In violently returning Wrongs, we do Nothing but what Beaſts can do, more rea⯑dily.—That, in Malice, the moſt Exalted Noble, is but on a Level with the Loweſt Slave: Whereas, to Pardon, is an Act of Sovereignty; and, however Inferior we were, before, to the Perſon, who has injured us, From the Moment, in which we forgive him, we exchange Conditions, and become Su⯑perior.

BUT, ſince many, who have no Ambition to be thought Men of Virtue, would, yet, gladly, be eſteemed Wiſe, It may be an Ar⯑gument, of more Perſwaſion, That This Propenſity to Revenge is a Mark, not of Mean-Spiritedneſs only, but of Ignorance.—The Man of Knowledge can never be enough ſurpriz'd, at Common Wrongs, to be inflam'd into a Reſentment, either too Malicious, or too Violent.—His Wiſdom has inſtructed him, That where-ever we find Men, we ſhall be ſure to find Injuries: And, That there is a Neceſſity of its being ſo, from the incompa⯑tible, and oppoſite, Wills, Humours, and Intereſts, among Mankind.

SHOU'D the Treacherous, the Suſpicious, the Covetous, the Inſolent, or the Reproach⯑ful, behave themſelves otherwiſe than we [126] could have expected, from their Natures, we might be juſtified, in our Wonder at it.—But, why ſhould we expreſs Amazement at what it was natural for us to depend on? Why be Angry with the Inconſiderable?—Moſt of Thoſe, who provoke, and offend us, deſerve rather our Grief, and Pity; For They are no more in their own Hands, than a Mad⯑man, or an Ideot, is: And we make a poorer Figure than our Pride allows us to believe, when we diſquiet our ſelves, on ſuch weak Motives.—When a Fool throws a Straw at us, It were to ſeem light, to feel the Weight of it: And He will never enjoy Reſt, who is not Maſter of Reſolution to forgive All Thoſe Injuries, which his Honour, or his Safety, does not compel him to defend himſelf againſt.

NEITHER is there only a Wiſdom, and a Nobleneſs;—There is ſomething, too, of a generous Courage, in a Heart, that is above the Reach of theſe vindictive Impreſ⯑ſions.—The Levity, that is ſhewn, in be⯑ing moved, at every Trifle, carries with it an Air of Faintneſs, and may be miſtaken for Puſila [...]ity. For, the firm, and manly, Tem⯑per, apprehending Nothing, with Fear, re⯑ceives all Accidents, with Calmneſs: And, juſtly conſcious of its Strength, to ſupport it ſelf, againſt Danger, is Indifferent to the In⯑diſcretions, or Animoſities, of malignant Na⯑tures.

[127]THERE is a ſingle, heroick, Word, in the Hiſtory of the Life of Adrian, which I could never read, without Emotions of the higheſt Admiration; and, which carries in it the Inſtruction, and Sublimity, of many Vo⯑lumes!—After That Great-Spirited Prince became poſſeſſed of the Empire, He met a Perſon, in the publick Way, who had been his moſt implacable, and bitter, Enemy.—The Wretch, whoſe Heart was as contracted, as His Malice had been extenſive, began to tremble, with Expectation of ſome ſevere, and ſudden, Puniſhment,—ſuch as, He knew, He would, Himſelf, have inflicted on Adrian, had the Emperor's Power been His. But Adrian, with the ſereneſt Gravity, only whiſper'd, as He paſs'd him, EVASISTI—You have Eſcap'd me.

ALL, that Largeneſs of Soul could inſpire, or Eloquence adorn, and utter, ſeems to have been expreſs'd, in this ESCAP'D ME!—It laid open, to the View of the World, the Mighty Heart of it's Great Speaker!—It declared him nobly ſenſible, That Juſtice would look like Malice, ſhould He, now, when at the Head of Empire, re⯑venge, upon a Private Enemy, the Contempt, He met with, while a Subject!—That very Power, and Command of Puniſhment, which ſordid Natures would have uſed, with Gree⯑dineſs, to the Deſtruction of the Man they hated, reſtrained, and temper'd, His Reſent⯑ment!—He conſidered Himſelf, as no longer [128] on a Level with his Injurer. The Protection, which he owned his Subject, diſarmed the Hatred which he bore his Enemy!—You have eſcaped, (He meant to ſay, in That ſig⯑nificant, ſingle, Word!) You have eſcaped, by my becoming your MASTER, the Vengeance which you ſhould have felt, from me, had, I continued, but, your EQUAL.—That ADRIAN is, now, no more, from whom you could not have expected Mercy; And This ADRIAN, who gives you Pardon, owes Com⯑paſſion to His offending Subjects, and remembers none of the Other's Injuries!

IT is impoſſible, but a Collection of ſuch amiable Examples as This, enforced, by ſome perſwaſive Pen, muſt work ſtrongly upon the Minds of Men, not depraved into utter Taſtleſsneſs: For, by ſtriking, even, Little Hearts, with a clear Conviction, That the Precept contains Nothing, but what has been exceeded in the Practice, It would leave them no Pretence for Evaſion; and inſinuate, by a gradual Progreſs, out of their Memory, into their Imitation.

BUT Nothing furniſhes more Occaſion for Surprize, and Indignation, than to ob⯑ſerve our Places of Publick Worſhip, filled with Outſide Formaliſts, of all Ranks, and of both Sexes; who, either with an impious Hypocriſy, or a Stupidity, as dark as Ideotiſm, affront the Majeſty of Heaven, by petition⯑ing GOD's Pardon,—as They, Themſelves, pardon Others. While, at the very Moment [129] of their Kneeling, in this empty Mockery of Devotion, It is known, to one Half the Congregation, That the Hearts of the other Half are imbitter'd with malicious Purpoſes, and glowing with a painful Reſtleſsneſs, till they can be revenged, for, ſome ſlight Indig⯑nity.—Could Theſe People have a Senſe of the Signification of the Words they utter, They would tremble at the Apprehenſion of having What they pray for, granted, literally; and the Mercy of That dreadful GOD they dare to trifle with, refuſed, to their Unwor⯑thineſs, till they have learnt as readily to for⯑give, as to pray to be forgiven.

BUT, excluſive of thoſe ſeverer Arguments, which might be drawn from Grace, and Vir⯑tue, There is One, which muſt be welcome; becauſe we, all, agree to love ourſelves; and no Enemy is ſo Troubleſome, as Malice to our Pride, our Health, and our Quiet.—We ſubmit our ſelves, by this unmanly Paſſion, to the Humours of the Men we hate.—We empower them to afflict, and mortifie, us.—At the Sight of a Perſon, againſt whom we meditate Revenge, our Spirits undergo a Tempeſt: And, even when he is abſent, our Memory goads, and tortures us.—Our very Dreams become imbitter'd, and confound our Reſt, with our Diſquiet.—We wiſh the Evil to Another; but we in⯑flict it on our Selves: And, contrary to our own Intention, become Patients, where we deſign to be Agents.—The Revenger lives [130] in Torment, and He, on whom He would be revenged, is at Eaſe.

IT is a grinding, gnawing, Paſſion, that preys inward, upon the Heart, and miſtakes the Means of its own Purpoſe.—What Triumph can Revenge afford us, but from a Reflexion, That the Perſon puniſhed, repents, and wiſhes the Wrong unacted? This End can never be obtain'd by Miſchiefs; for, by provoking new Malice, they make the Me⯑mory of the old delightful: But it may be nobly effected, by aſtoniſhing, diſgracing, and confounding an Enemy, with Benefits in re⯑turn for his Demerit. And This is what the moſt Venerable of all Books very ſtrongly ex⯑preſſes, by heaping Coals of Fire, on His Head: That is, It burns, and wounds, his Imagina⯑tion, with a conſcious Shame, at his Inferior Figure, while He ſees himſelf diſgraced, by Services from That Perſon, of all the World, whom he leaſt deſerved to be obliged by!—The ſtubborn Virtue of CATO, would have allowed him to ſubmit to CAESAR; but that his Pride was more afraid of a Par⯑don, than his Perſon was of an Inſult.

MEN of Spirit ſhou'd deſpiſe this Paſſion, becauſe it is evident, That the weakeſt Minds are moſt malicious, and revengeful.—Children, Women, and Men, leſs reſolute than Women, ſting, and fret themſelves with ſenſe of Slights, Contempts, and Follies, which they miſ-call Injuries; while the Ra⯑tional, and Stedfaſt Mind neglects, or ſmiles [131] at, all ſuch Accidents.—Their Effects may flutter round him; but, when they find no Place, to enter at, are loſt, in fruitleſs Murmurings; like a Tempeſt, that is re⯑puls'd, againſt the Firmneſs of a Moun⯑tain.—The Diſtaſts, Aſperſions, and In⯑dignities, which appear ſo formidable, to an Abject Nature, may be compared with Thunder and Lightning; which are terrible, to our Lower World, but have nothing in them, worth the Notice of thoſe Angels, and ſuperior Spirits, which inhabit the Caele⯑leſtial Regions.—SCIPIO, CAESAR, ALEXANDER; All the Great and Shining Characters, which have made Anti⯑quity Illuſtrious, have been ſo far from ſtoop⯑ing, to indulge Revenge, that, on the con⯑trary, they have ſought Occaſions, to over⯑whelm, with torturing Kindneſſes, the moſt malicious, of their Perſonal Enemies.

BUT, a Mixture of Shade, with Light, being neceſſary, to compleat a Picture, I will ſet them off, by one another, in a Compariſon, between a MONARCH and a MINISTER; out of Mirkond, a Perſian Writer.

[133]JUST half as good a Story we read, of Queen Elizabeth, and our Spencer; She had order'd him a Hundred Marks, for ſome Piece of his Poetry: But the Frugal Treaſurer, of thoſe Days, whoſe Wit was too Little, for his Wiſdom, took upon him to tell the Queen it was too much Money for an Idle Ballad.—Give him, then, ſaid She, what you think he deſerves, in Reaſon.—He reply'd, he would conſider of it; which he delay'd to do, ſo long, that, at laſt, he quite forgot it.

THE Queen, a Year or two after, din'd, in one of her Progreſſes, at the Houſe of a Gentleman, where Spencer happen'd to be; who, in Preſence of his Friend, the Treaſurer, put into her Hands theſe Verſes.

THE Queen (ſays the Story) was highly pleas'd with the Humour, and commanded the Treaſurer to pay him Double the Sum, firſt order'd.—Had She added, That he ſhou'd pay it out of his own Private Purſe, we ſhou'd have found no Occaſion to mend her deficient Example, by a Better, in that of Ogtai-Khan, juſt mention'd.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 73.
MONDAY, November 30. 1724.

MAHOMET the IId, That victorious Turkiſh Emperor, who took Conſtantinople from the Chriſtians, had a very great Genius for Poetry, and was ſo warm in its Encourage⯑ment, that He is reported to have offer'd Re⯑wards, for every Fault, that cou'd be pointed out, in the Works of his Court Poets, and made Good againſt the Arguments, which ſhou'd be brought, in Favour of the Defendants.

HEAVEN be prais'd, That His Majeſty of GREAT BRITAIN has no ſuch partial Opinion of the Poets of our Age, and Coun⯑try! Such a Proclamation wou'd drain his Exchequer, more effectually than a Ten Years War, with the ſtrongeſt Power of Europe!

BUT, I believe, we may live at Eaſe: The Encouragement of the Poet's Art, in this preſent Generation, will occaſion no Pro⯑fuſeneſs, that can be dangerous to the Reve⯑nue. [135] And, as for our Great Men, They are Patrons, for the moſt Part, as They are Doctors, and Maſters of Art, rather by Acci⯑dent, than by Purpoſe; and think themſelves under no Obligation to pay for Compliments which their Conſcience tells them, They have No Right to.

THE Truth is, when Any Thing, ſo Ex⯑traordinary, falls out, as, That A Man of Quality is Witty Himſelf, and an Encou⯑rager of Wit, in Others; The Poets are ſo Unmerciful, in their Aſſaults on his Libe⯑rality, That His Equals, in Dignity, have found much Safety and Comfort, in the Fame of Dullneſs. And there never was a livelier Proof of the Soundneſs of That Common Maxim, that Honeſty is the beſt Policy; than the Succeſs of the faſhionable Expedient, (at once ſo frank, and ſo ingenious!) of return⯑ing the Dedicator's Gilt Book, with this ſhort Apology for not accepting it—My Lord gives his Service, and ſays, He does not UNDERSTAND theſe Matters.

FOR Want of ſome ſuch dext'rous Stroke of Art, The Grandees, of That Turkiſh Emperor's Court, whom I nam'd, at the Head of my Paper, were, often, reduc'd to a Nonplus. It was, particularly, the Caſe of Ali-Baſha, His Favourite Treaſurer. He had learnt to Read, and caſt Accompts; But Wit being out of his Way, He had one, regular, Method of re⯑warding All who addreſs'd their Writings to Him: He put the Book into one Scale, and [136] dropt Gold into another, and, having adjuſted the Balance, gave the Weight of the Work, as a Gratuity, to the Author.—The worſt Effect of this General Rule was, That it was common for the lighteſt Diſcourſes to bring with them the heavieſt Bindings. There was nothing, more Subſtantial than the Covers of this Great Patron's Books!—But one Poet, above the Reſt, had contriv'd a pleaſant Scheme, to make the moſt of his Ingenuity. He compos'd a Copy of Verſes; and, inſtead of Writing them, in the uſual Manner, caus'd them to be Engrav'd on a Block of Marble, that was large enough for a Tomb⯑ſtone!—He loaded a Cart with his Compli⯑ment, and went to wait on the Baſha with it; who, having Notice of his intended Preſent, ſent out the Maſter of his Buildings, to examine the Size, and Workmanſhip, of the Stone, and pay for it, according to its Value—The Poet went away very much ſurpriz'd, and diſſatisfy'd, and writ his Patron a Com⯑plaint, How contrary to His Greatneſs's Cu⯑ſtom, His Officers had preſum'd to Treat him: To which the Baſha anſwer'd, gravely, That it aroſe, from a Change, in His Manner;—For, whereas he had, formerly, reward⯑ed, by WEIGHT, He ſhou'd, hereafter, do it, by MEASURE.

WE have ſome, among our Nobility, who are equally Illuſtrious for their Learning, and their Patronage of Learning: But they are ſo Poetically perſecuted, by the Swarms of Little [137] Creatures, who have no End, in Writing, but the Profit they propoſe to draw from it, That they meet with daily Provocations to repel the Avarice of Flattery, with a Spirit, and Sharpneſs, like the Baſha's, above-men⯑tion'd: And, This, no Doubt, is one Reaſon for the Neglect, which Works of Genius often meet with, when addreſs'd to Men of Quality.

BUT, if Contempt is due to the Merce⯑nary, The Modeſt deſerve Encouragement: And They, who are truly Generous, ſhou'd never wait, till Occaſion offers it ſelf; but ſeek, and make, the Opportunity. For, as the Sharpneſs of our Sight is beſt prov'd by the Remoteneſs, in which we diſtinguiſh Ob⯑jects; ſo our Judgment appears, moſt ſtrongly, when we diſcern Merit at Diſtance, and invite it, to aproach us.

I AM always pleas'd with the Proſpect of Any Work, from which the Publick may promiſe It ſelf, either Entertainment, or In⯑ſtruction: And I hope, The Gentleman, who has ſent me the following Verſes, and Letter, will have no Reaſon to complain of the Recep⯑tion, His Deſign ſhall meet with.

I HAVE, purpoſely, left out, much of This ingenious, and unhappy, Gentleman's Letter, which was very new, and ſurpriz⯑ing; and affected me with the moſt touching Grief.—If I apprehend His Caſe clearly [141] (and the Proofs He ſent me, are too ſtrong, to be eaſily miſtaken) It is, in ſome Mea⯑ſure, to be conſidered, as That of an Injured Nobleman,—But of This, the World will judge, for it ſelf, when the Particulars ſhall be more publick,—That is His own imme⯑diate Concern, and will, I ſuppoſe, be His own Care:—But His Propoſal is What Every Body ought to take Part in; becauſe the Book, in itſelf, has a very uncommon Merit: And Both Merit, and Ill-Fortune, join, to recommend the Propoſer.

I THINK it was finely ſaid, by a Gentle⯑man, whoſe Writings, and Humanity, were, for many Years, the Admiration of the King⯑dom.—That it ought to be the Care of All, in whoſe Power it lay, to lift Mr. SAVAGE above a Senſe of his MOTHER's Cruelty; becauſe a Miſery, ſo undeſerved, had intitled him to a Right of finding Every Good Man his FATHER.

BUT, when, to a Miſery ſo undeſerved, we add a Deſign, ſo full of Reaſon, It is impoſſible, but there muſt be Many, who will feel a noble Delight, in diſtinguiſhing their Zeal, for ſo modeſt a Propoſer; and ſend their own Names, and Thoſe of Others, whom they can Influence, as ſo many Examples, when the Liſt comes to be publiſh'd, That we have Spirits, who can diſcover Genius, before it riſes into Noiſe: and dare promote it, without waiting till the Way has been led, by Others.

The Plain Dealer. No 74.
FRIDAY, December 4. 1724.

MY Devotion, I am afraid, is not ſo Pure, and Simple, as it ought to be. There is a Niceneſs, in my Taſte of other People's Behaviour, at Church, which ill agrees with the Duty, which I my ſelf am there, for the Diſcharge of.

I diſcovered this Defect of Grace in the Conſtitution of my Zeal, by a kind of Re⯑probate Contempt, which I found my ſelf affected by, laſt Sunday, againſt that plain, and humble, Aukwardneſs, with which the mangled Pſalms of David, were vociferated, by the Congregation.—A Gentleman, of my Acquaintance, unluckily whiſpered me, (in the midſt of what they call their Singing) That he knew a Dutch Painter, who had drawn the livelieſt Groteſque Piece, in Europe, by an Idea, that he brought out of Church [143] with him, from a Gallery of Country Pſalms-Singers.

MY Eyes, and Ears, took his Hint; and I ſhall never forget the Group of Living Ima⯑gery!—The Rolling Eyes, Raiſed Faces, Hanging Heads, Oblique Chins, Stretch'd Mouths, and Diſtorted Muſcles!—The Voi⯑ces too were as provokingly diſſonant, as the Looks were ludicrouſly penitential!—Inſtead of finding my Thoughts exalted, by the Spirit of tranſporting Harmony, I became aſhamed, at the preſumptuous Licenſe, with which the Coarſeſt, and moſt unskilful Roar⯑ers took upon 'em to bear Part, in Muſick, Sacred to the Praiſes of the ALMIGHTY.

THIS brought to my Reflection, with how much Reaſon, as well as Reverence, The Choirs of our Cathedral Churches preſerve the Dignity of their Religious Harmony, by ex⯑cluding the Unskill'd; and aiding the Attracted Heart, by all the ſweet, and melting Force, of Vocal and of Inſtrumental Muſick; in its moſt moving Elegance, and Perfection.

BUT, It is not only the Manner in which Pſalms are commonly ſung, that I conſider as an Indecency: The Pſalms Themſelves, as we have them in the old Engliſh, Verſion, are a Diſgrace to our our Learning, Language, and our Religion!—Who, that forms his Notion of David's Genius, from his Poetry, as This Tranſlation gives it us, could poſſibly believe Him the Sublimeſt, of All Human Writers? Who, that ſhould read theſe Lines, as they run, in the Exalted Original?

WHO, I ſay, could ſuppoſe He had found them, either in the Senſe, or the deſpicable Expreſſion, of This, which follows, from our Vulgar Verſion?

THE Sectarians, who are (too frequently) exceeding Rigid, and Narrow, in their Ad⯑herence to imbib'd Prejudices, ſeem rather to affect, than diſcourage, Cant and Dullneſs, in their Religious Eloquence: And, it is a very Extraordinary Reaſon which ſome of thoſe Gentlemen have been pleaſed to give us, in Print, for the want of Taſte, and Incapa⯑city, with which the Nobleſt, and moſt Ele⯑vated, Strokes of David's Sacred Poetry, have been debaſed into Low, and untune⯑able Jargon;—God's Altars need none of our Poliſhing! As, if to write poorly, were a Merit, in Religious Treatiſes; and it were poſſible to find a Subject, more adapted to the Fullneſs of Art, than the Praiſes of That GOD, who formed Both Art and Nature!

THERE is Nothing ſo Rapturous! No⯑thing ſo ſtrongly painted, in all the nobleſt [145] Warmths of Fancy, or of Judgment, which have immortalized the Antient Poets, as moſt of the Hebrew Deſcriptions of the Power, and Majeſty of GOD! And, among Theſe, The CIVth Pſalm, and eſpecially the Firſt Part of it, is a Collection, in one View, of the moſt Dreadful and Amiable, of the Almighty's Attributes: So glowingly conceived, and re⯑preſented in ſuch lively Fullneſs; that all the Greek and Latin ODES, are faint, and languid, in Compariſon with it.

IT is impoſſible to Tranſlate the Images of This prodigious Poet, without doing them ſome Injuſtice: But, having lately been pre⯑ſented with an Eſſay, upon the mentioned Pſalm, in which an Eye has been, Every where, kept to the Senſe and Dignity of the Original, rather than to its dead Letter, I will publiſh it, as a Proof, That Nothing can be more unlike the Thoughts of David, than what we ſing, as His in moſt of our Churches.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 75.
MONDAY, December 7. 1724.

I DECLAR'D, in a late Paper, that my Speculations ſhou'd ſometimes, extend to Politicks. This Day's Entertainment ſhall be an Introduction, to that Purpoſe; which I ſhall, occaſionally, purſue, with the open Spirit of a PLAIN DEALER: aſſerting, and making free with All the Liberty I was born to:—A Liberty, which does not alone in⯑title us to a Property in our Eſtates, but in our Thoughts alſo. It is the great Charecte⯑riſtick of every Free-born Briton, That He may ſpeak, as He thinks, and think, as He pleaſes.

WHILE, like the Provinces of the declin⯑ing Empire of Old Rome, we are fretting, and diſturbing ourſelves, (under the Notion of Reaſon, and Principle) to ſupport the factious Avarice of a few aſpiring Men, who find their Intereſt in our Diviſions, the GOTHS are at [150] our Gate; and we are apprehenſive of no out⯑ward Danger.—There ſeems to be riſing, near us, That NORTHERN LYON, which has, ſo often, been propheſied of: And I believe, in the Courſe of my Papers, I ſhall make it ſufficiently viſible, that, if early Meaſures are not taken, by Way of Pre⯑vention, againſt the threaten'd Evil, the UNIVERSAL EMPIRE, which Spain and France, have ſucceſſively alarm'd Europe with a fruitleſs Dread of, ſeems, in Reality, to be coming upon us, with all the Terrors of a Fifth General Monarchy.

IF it is ſuppos'd, That ſuch a Fear con⯑cerns Us, leſs than other States, which may be thought to lie more expos'd, I doubt we deceive Our-ſelves, by a Vanity, common to all Nations, in over-rating the Hazard of an Enemy, who ſhou'd preſume to invade us.—Our Ships, (powerful, and numerous, as they are) are more formidable by the Re⯑putation of their Terror, than by the Danger of their Oppoſition. For, to expect that a Fleet will, at all Times, be able to keep Danger at a Diſtance, were to give our Pro⯑tection to the Winds—How many Caveats, againſt ſo unſtable a Security, cannot our own Hiſtory furniſh us with?—Neither ought it to be conſider'd, as a Remote, or Chimerical, Proſpect, That we may be match'd in our Marine Pretenſions—We cannot poſ⯑ſibly have more Advantage, in the Fame, and Practice, of Dominion at Sea, againſt [151] any of our Cotemporary States, than the Carthaginians had againſt the Romans: And the Succeſs which crown'd the Induſtry, and unconquerable Spirit, of theſe Laſt, in De⯑fiance of all Obſtacles, as well of Nature, as of Art, is a Leſſon, which may may teach our Stateſmen, That there is infinite Diffe⯑rence, between Things difficult, and Things impoſſible.

NOT to inſiſt on, the memorable Sur⯑prize, with which France, in a few Years Application, convinc'd us, with how little Reaſon we had indulg'd a Notion, That there were natural Impoſſibilities to prevent that Great Nation from becoming Powerful, at Sea; All which were found mere Shadows, when the Genius of her Miniſters turn'd their Thoughts on attempting it!—The prodi⯑gious, and enterprizing, Spirit of the preſent Czar of Ruſſia has, at once, eſtabliſh'd, in the Baltick, a Third Maritime Power, Supe⯑riour to Both its old Ones: And, now, while I am Writing, has a Fleet of Sixty Ships of the Line, beſides Frigates;—and Gallies without Number.

AS to natural Advantages, whether for building, equipping, or maintaining a Navy, this Prince has the Start of us, beyond all Compariſon.—And ſince, when his Ships are as Many, and as Strong, as ours, (which judging by what has been done already, they may be, in Three or Four Years) our whole Pretence to Superiority muſt be plac'd in our [152] Skill, and Experience, in Sea-Fights, how dangerous wou'd the Conſequence be found, ſhou'd he hit upon ſome New Method of improving his Veſſels, in their Strength, De⯑fenſive, or Offenſive? Many High, and Ardu⯑ous Attempts toward which, have buſied, ſome Years paſt, the unreſting Genius of that Monarch.

WITHIN the Memory of Numbers, yet living, the Muſcovites were conſider'd, as a People, ſo far from Dangerous, that they were even Contemptible: And the precipitate Ad⯑vance of their Reputation in Arms, and Po⯑licy, is a Proof, that no Vanity is more weak⯑ly founded, and unjuſt, than the Common Practice of all Nations, to eſteem Themſelves more Valiant than their Neighbours.—Man⯑kind is every where the ſame, by Nature, till a Difference is produc'd, by Cuſtom.—What Nation braver, than the Perſians un⯑der Cyrus? Yet, what Nation baſer, when they oppos'd the Arms of Alexander?—What People, under Heaven, have more in⯑rich'd the Hiſtories of former Ages, than the Anceſtors of thoſe degenerate Greeks, who are, now, the Diſgrace of Chriſtendom? Con⯑tented Slaves, under a Tyranny, a thouſand Times more inſupportable than the worſt of Thoſe, in ſcorn of which their ancient Ora⯑tors have fill'd the World with Noiſy Decla⯑mations, in the boaſted Cauſe of Liberty! ITALY, the imperious Miſtreſs of the Uni⯑verſe! has been ſunk, for many Ages; and [153] parcell'd into petty, and almoſt inconſide⯑rable, Juriſdictions!—And, to bring the Proof quite Home, what People ever ſeem'd to hold a clearer Superiority over their Enemies, than the Engliſh Armies, which our Firſt Edward, led to War againſt the Scots? And, yet, what Truth more undeniable, than the ſhame⯑ful Cowardice, and downright Baſeneſs, of the Sons of thoſe very Engliſh, drawn out, againſt the Sons of the ſame Scots, in the next ſucceeding Reign of Edward the Second.

COURAGE, when conſider'd nationally, is not the Effect of Nature, but of Diſcipline! Skill, and Practice, teaching an Agility in the Uſe of Arms, excite a Pleaſure in their Exerciſe: And, abating, by Degrees, that Fear of Death, which is natural to all Men, convert it into Hope of Victory; and a proud, and reſtleſs, Thirſt of Glory.—Arms there⯑fore, and a dexterous Superiority in the Uſe of them, ſhould be eſteemed the Sinews of War; and not MONEY, as is, commonly, pretended.—An Army, capable of conque⯑ring, will always find Means of ſubſiſting: But Money, though it ſubſiſts an ill-diſcipli⯑ned Army, can never qualifie it for conque⯑ring.—The Helpleſs Indians, of Mexico, were infinitely Richer, than their Plunderers,—the Goths, when (from that very Coun⯑try, which the Czar now governs) they over⯑ran, and ruin'd Europe, brought them only, Iron; they knew, That would make them Maſters of all the Gold, they ſhould have Occaſion for.

[154]PRINCES, whoſe Authority is abſolute, and uncontroll'd, by Privileges, Rights, or Cuſtoms; whoſe Dominions are vaſt, and po⯑pulous, and whoſe Subjects are laborious, hardy, and obedient; and acquainted with no Learning, but what is ſufficient to aid their Induſtry, without inflaming their Pride.—Such Princes, become dreadful, as ſoon as they appear ambitious, and exert themſelves in Pre⯑parations for War.—But, when it happens, too, that a Prince, in ſo tempting a Situa⯑tion, has a Genius capable of Improving the Art-Military, It is difficult to put Limits to the Conſequences, which may attend His Fortune.

THO' the Study of the Art of War has been carried to a great Perfection, yet there is Room enough left to give Scope to the Force of Genius, this Way: And it would, perhaps, be found, upon Trial, That the Modern Syſtem, (notwithſtanding the Uſe of Gunpowder, which was unknown to the An⯑cients) is as ſubject as the old was, to be trampled on, and overpower'd, by ſome new, and unforeſeen, Diſcoveries, on thoſe Sides, moſt eſpecially, where we believe ourſelves ſecureſt.

THE meaſur'd Lines of Humane Foreſight, which are, ſo proudly diſtinguiſhed, by the Name of Policy, are vain Amuſements, and mere Cobweb Subtleties.—Their narrow, buſy, Schemes, of balancing the Power, and Inte⯑reſts of Nations, are often inſufficient for the [155] Purpoſes of their Deſigners, becauſe theſe High-way Stateſmen found their Maxims upon Error, in the firſt Concoction.—The Force of a Prince is, by their Rule, to be calculated, from his Revenue, and his Revenue, from the Wealth of his Subjects: But This Argument depends intirely on the general, miſtaken, Notion, That All Equal Numbers, will be of Equal Weight, in War; which is ſo far from being true, That, ſhould the Pooreſt Prince in Europe, fall upon the Richeſt, with a Skill in Arms, as much Superiour, as He is Infe⯑riour in his Numbers, the Diſparity would be revers'd, immediately.

THE Romans, who never conquer'd, in order to prolong a War, but to make it bear its own Expences; and encreaſe, as well their Treaſury, as their Reputation, were ſo far from this new Way, of computing an Ene⯑my's Strength, by his Riches, that Their Judgment was directly contrary. And this Opinion of Ancient Times appears ſtrongly in that magnanimous Anſwer, which was given by a Gaul, to a King of Macedon, who ſhew'd him his Heaps of Gold, in order to excite Terror; and, then, ask'd him, What He thought of His Condition? The rugged Soldier reply'd, ſharply, That as to what con⯑cern'd His Condition, a Stranger could be no Judge: But His BOUNTY, He could perceive, Extraordinary,—ſince he had taken ſuch un⯑uſual Pains to let his Enemies be convinc'd, clearly, That his Kingdom was worth their Conquering.

[56]WHERE a Prince is really ſtrong,—To be held Weak, in the Opinion of the World, is rather a Benefit, than a Diſadvantage.—His Preparations alarm no Body; and the Blow, he deſigns to ſtrike, will as ſoon be felt, as apprehended: Whereas the Fame of Power, and Riches keeps Jealouſy awake; and attracts Envy, and Oppoſition, from all Quarters.—The Fortune of the late French King had, poſſibly, kept Pace with his Am⯑bition, if it had not been watch'd, and check'd, upon this ſingle Conſideration.—On the other Hand, Guſtavus Adolphus was ſo happily deſpis'd, by the Auſtrian Gran⯑deur, which took it for granted, according to the modern Reaſoning, That the Poverty of ſuch an Invader would be a Curb to his Courage, that, boldly entring Germany with an Army of but Seven Thouſand Men, he carried every Thing before him, like a Torrent; broke the whole Scheme of the Emperor's Deſigns; and had ruin'd, in all Likelyhood, the Inte⯑reſt of that Family, if he had not been kill'd, in the Battle of Lutzen.

DESIGNING, in ſome future Papers, to ſpeak of Things, a little out of the common Road, and draw Concluſions, which I judge too new, to venture on, without a previous Notice, That I propoſe not to deduce my Arguments from the Principles of Modern Politiques, and therefore refuſe to be try'd by them; I have, for that Reaſon, thought neceſſary to publiſh theſe few General Reflections, as a Preparative, for what I intend, hereafter, to conſider, in a more diſtinct, and peculiar, Manner.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 76.
FRIDAY, December 11. 1724.

WHILE I was preparing to make good my Promiſe, in a late Paper, con⯑cerning the AFRICAN COMPANY; I re⯑ceiv'd the following Letter; which has thrown me under a Neceſſity of Suſpending the Exe⯑cution of my Purpoſe, 'till I can argue the LADIES into a Humour of Supporting the Burthen of ſomething, very Grave, upon the Comfort of its having been preceeded by ſomething that was very Whimſical.

AS there is nothing, more eaſie, than to ſatisfie the Demand of this Lady; and I am, naturally, inclin'd to do every Thing in my Power to promote the Pleaſure, or Intereſt, of the SEX, I ſhall poſtpone, what I mean to ſay, further, on the Improvement of that Company's Trade, in general, 'till I have open'd a Proſpect to this ungovernable Member of theirs, Mrs. LETTY GAMBOL, of the many Great, and Glorious Advantages, which may be imported, as ſhe deſires, out of Africa, to our Sea-Port Towns; and thence, ſpread themſelves, in due Time, over the Heart of this happy Kingdom; for the Eaſe, Emo⯑lument, [160] and Diſtinction, of the Women, its beſt MANUFACTURE.

I SHALL not confine my ſelf to any ſingle Part of Africa, but boldly, ranſack that whole Continent, for a Purpoſe, ſo Merito⯑rious.—It is the ſame Thing to me, whe⯑ther the Commodities I enquire after, are the Products of Wappo, of Popo, or of Ekke Tokki; Provided only, That the Goods are as polite, and elegant, as the Names, I ſhall load as willingly at Boffow, or Juffer, as at Quaqua: Nor ſhall I make any Difference, as to the Value I rate Laudable Cuſtoms at, from the One's having been the Prerogative of a Boſſum, and the Other the Quality of an Arompo ^*.

THE Sable Toaſts of thoſe Sunny Climates have ſuch Choice of Tempting Privileges, that I ſhall have Room, in this Paper, to recommend but a very few of them: I will, therefore, ſelect the Beſt; and begin with this ARCH-CLAIM of Virginity, within the Tropicks, that Girls, at Nine Years old, commence Women!

THE Young Ladies, too, in moſt Places, are at Liberty to diſpoſe, freely, of what⯑ever may be call'd Their own: And, when, afterwards, they think of Marrying, their [161] Credit, like that of other Traders, is rated the higher, by how much wider, and more publickly, They have carried on their Dealing.

I THINK, no Doubt can ariſe, concerning the Welcome with which Theſe Two valuable RIGHTS will be receiv'd: But, not be⯑ing altogether ſo clear, in my Opinion, con⯑cerning the following, I ſhall leave it to be weigh'd, maturely, How, far it may be of Uſe AMONG US, it is a Privilege to retire, from the Fatigue of Man's Society, after having been Mothers of Ten Children.

THE Antient Tryal, by bitter Waters, has been more generally heard of, than ap⯑prov'd, among our Women here at home, who, if not, perhaps, the Deepeſt, are, un⯑queſtionably, the prettieſt Caſuiſts, in the Univerſe. But the Duskier Beauties, of Negroland, when under Accuſations of too much good Nature, have an Appeal, to ſweeter Waters, in Juſtification of their Innocence: For, in order to diſcover, to a jealous Hus⯑band, whether the Wife has been guilty, or not, ſhe is thrown, headlong, into a River: And if ſhe drowns, ſhe was a Sinner. But, it is a Remark, of great Conſolation, That there never was found a Woman, who had not Lightneſs enough to Swim; and eſcape the Malice of her Accuſers.

THERE is ſomething, too, in their agree⯑able Manner of Mourning, for the Death of a Husband, which deſerves to be offer'd to the Conſideration of the SEX, in theſe more [162] Phlegmatick, Northern, Regions: And one wou'd wonder, indeed, how any thing, ſo extravagantly Polite, ſhou'd have got Footing, among People, who never Subſcrib'd, to an Opera.—The whole Term of ſuch Mourn⯑ing is included within Fourteen Days: And the Ceremony conſiſts of Cries, which are modulated by the Tunes of Muſical Inſtru⯑ments; and accommodated (with a certain Equitable Dexterity) to the Eaſe of the Performer, and more lively Entertainment of the Audience; by large, intermediate, Pauſes, during which they drink Brandy, and ſmoke Tobacco, 'till their Spirits are duly rais'd, to expect when the Muſick be⯑gins again, for another Act, of the Ob⯑ſequies.

BUT, above all their agreeable Cuſtoms, I contemplate, with moſt Reverence, the vaſt Extent of their Charity! There is, in it, an uncommon Profoundneſs; and a Tenderneſs of Heart, beyond Example!—It is a Practice, among the Rich Negro Ladies, on the Gold Coaſt, to give Orders, on their Death Beds, for buying up a Number of Female-Slaves, to beſtow on the Publick, as Living Legacies, whoſe whole Buſineſs it is, to be at Every Body's Ser⯑vice, in One ſole Employment, (which they are, All, equally, capable of) for the Price of Three Periwincle-Shells.—They conſider This, as a Work, of great Mercy, and Compaſſion; and, conſcious of their [163] pious Purpoſe, cloſe their Eyes, and die, ſatisfied.

I COU'D add an infinite Variety of ſuch uncommon Commodities as Theſe: But the Foregoing will ſerve, as Samples, of what Rich Goods may be imported, for the Uſes, which my Correſpondent hints at, if, in Right of her ſelf, and the Ladies ſhe acts for, ſhe cou'd propoſe any Scheme of Engraftment, by vertue whereof, the Aſſiſtants of the Royal Company might co⯑operate with the Siſterhood.

IT is not to be queſtion'd, but, when ſuch a Scheme comes to be ſeen, the Di⯑rectors of ſome other, of our more thriv⯑ing Societies will ſtir againſt it, out of Envy, and propoſe their own reſpective Bodies, as moſt Capable of, or more adap⯑ted to, the mention'd Incorporation. But the Ladies will, I hope, have Honour enough to keep cloſe to their firſt Engraf⯑ters: And, leaſt their natural Diſpoſition to think too meanly of Themſelves, and their own Reaſonings, ſhould expoſe them, with⯑out Defence, to the Force of Arguments, they cannot Anſwer, I will conclude this Eſſay for their Service with the Example of a ROYAL AFRICAN; His Majeſty, the King of Boffoe; who, when his Conſcience was a little puzzled, brought himſelf off, by his Reſolution.

The Plain Dealer. No 77.
MONDAY, December 14. 1724.

I REMEMBER a Paſſage, in ſome Eaſtern Writer, which carries a ſharp, and inſtru⯑ctive, Moral. An Emir, of great Sanctity, had a Cuſtom, every Night, to call his Fa⯑mily together, that they might ſit round him, with due Gravity, to hear his Son read ſome Chapter of the Alcoran, which the Fa⯑ther would take Pleaſure in opening, and en⯑larging on, to his Domeſtick Congregation. It happened, one Night, that, in the midſt of the Sermon, the whole Audience fell aſleep; except the Preacher, and his Son: Which laſt, aſſoon as he obſerv'd it, inter⯑rupted his Father, with this Remark.—See, Sir, the Fruits of your Good Purpoſe! There is not one, of them All, but ſleeps, as ſoundly, as if God's Word deſerv'd no Reverence!—The Emir look'd round the Company, and ſhutting up his Spectacles, in the Book, againſt a fitter Opportunity, drew his Diſcourſe to a [166] Concluſion, with this Reply, to his Son's In⯑telligence—You had, your ſelf, been better employ'd, in adding One to the Number of Sleep⯑ers, than in waking, not ſo much to correct your own Faults, as to obſerve the Faults of Others.

I receiv'd a Letter, the other Day, which brought this Story to my Remembrance, and is one Proof, among many, how difficult a Province he undertakes, who aſſumes the Office of a PLAIN DEALER, at a Time, when People are ſo vigorous, in the Cenſures, which they make Themſelves; and ſo languid, in their Approbation of Thoſe, which others make, with the ſame Liberty!

The Author of this Letter is, ſo kind, as to let me know, ‘"He is one of my Beſt Friends; he will not therefore inſiſt on my Diſingenuity, to fall foul of—a ſingle Sen⯑tence,—in one of my late Papers; and, dwell on one Error, in a voluminous Au⯑thor: But he is ſo good as to be in Pain for my Veracity; having carefully (he ſays) examin'd every ſingle Paragraph of Mr. Trapp's Preface to his Tranſlation of Vir⯑gil, and not being able to diſcover, what I charge him with.—He cloſes all, with a Hint, that he writes, in Vindication of that worthy and Reverend, Author; and would not have Offence taken at every Trifle."’

THE VERACITY of the PLAIN DEALER being the Side he will be ſure [167] to be moſt defenſible on, it was unskilfully done, for a Lover of the Muſes, as my Cor⯑reſpondent ſubſcribes himſelf, to bring on his Attack, ſo raſhly, on that Quarter.—He ought, firſt, to have been very careful, and confirm'd, in his Diſcoveries.—But, to re⯑move the Cloud from his Sight, if he pleaſes to turn to Page 382, of the firſt Volume of the mention'd Tranſlation; in an Eſſay, on moving the Paſſions, previous to the Remarks on the 4th Book, he will find a Paragraph ended thus,—We have not—as—yet—in⯑deed—completed the Explication, propos'd:—For ſomething—more—ſtill—remains—be⯑hind.—If this differs from what it appear'd in my Paper, it is only by being a little worſe than I made it.

THUS much, to the Charge, in that only Part, which carried any Appearance of Rea⯑ſon with it.—The other Articles have no Weight, at all, but from the Regard that is due to a miſtaken Good-Nature; which has miſled the Gentleman, whoever he was, to apprehend, as a Trifle, an Error of the firſt Magnitude, in Writing.—It is certainly the Buſineſs, and the Aim, of every Author, to explain, and illuſtrate, his Argument: But this tedious Redundance obſcures, and perplexes it.—Where a Man ſhould imprint Idea's, he diſtracts and erazes them: And, inſtead of awakening the Paſſions, affects the Spirits with Drowſineſs.—Such a TRIFLE is this Fault, which my Correſpondent is for [168] paſſing over, with ſo tender-hearted a Blind⯑neſs!

THE cenſur'd Paſſage, then, is no Error, of ſuch ſmall Importance, as the Animadver⯑tor had thought fit to imagine; but he falls, next, into another Miſtake, of conſidering it, as a Place, pick'd out by the Inquiſition of a malicious Eye: Whereas (if he had been as attentive to the Argument, of the Paper, where he found that Cenſure, as he was to the Cenſure Itſelf) nothing would have been more eaſy, than to have obſerv'd Numbers, of the ſame Kind of Amplifications, which might, with equal Effect, have been borrow'd from that work: And, thence, he muſt have drawn this natural and obvious Concluſion.—That one Error, only, was dwelt on, not be⯑cauſe it was all that could be found, but be⯑cauſe it was all, that could be admitted in that Paper.

AS to the Worthineſs, or Reverence, of the Author, the Letter-Writer himſelf can wiſh no leſs Ill to him, than the PLAIN DEALER does. But this is a Matter en⯑tirely out of the Queſtion. The Perſon has no⯑thing to do, where what he has written, and publiſhed, is the Ground of the Argument.—For a Friend, Partiality is Weakneſs: And, againſt an Enemy, it is Baſeneſs. The Merit of a Cauſe lies above the Level of ſuch low Motives; and they, who would reach it, as they ought, muſt be liſted in their Attempt, between Juſtice and Reſolution.—There is [169] nothing, which the PLAIN DEALER has a ſincerer Deteſtation of, than Perſonal Re⯑proach or Defamation: But then, on the other ſide, he who dares not ſpeak out openly, whenever Occaſion offers it ſelf, concerning the Miſcarriages of the Greateſt Men, or the Vertues of the moſt Unproſperous, has a Soul, below the Duties, of one, who writes, that he may deſerve Reading.

BUT, to make a Tranſition to a Subject, which I have, for ſome Time (in vain) been expecting an Opportunity to reſume, with a Spirit leſs ludicrous, than That, in which I touch'd it, not long ſince: I am rais'd, to ſuch a Height of Wonders, by the trium⯑phant Poſture, in which the Wit of this Ge⯑neration is viſible, almoſt every Night, at one or other of our Theatres, in the Genius of our Actors Limbs, that there is nothing, which I cannot promiſe my ſelf, from the Readineſs of their Elaſtick Capacity; and the Humour, which the Town is in, of liſtning, to the Voice of their Muſcles!

I HAVE noted, for this Reaſon, what I diſcovered, not without due Tranſport, as I was peruſing a certain Venerable HIGH GER⯑MAN Compiler, (CAMERARIUS his Hi⯑ſtorical Meditations!)—It is a new, and un⯑broken Mine, of Theatrical Treaſure! which I ſhall recommend, with the ſtronger Hope, to the Contention of our Rival Stages, be⯑cauſe, the never-to-be-forgotten, the Trium⯑phant FAUSTUS HIMSELF was of Happy High German Original!

I WAS ſo pleas'd with this Fancy, that I could not forbear communicating it, for the future Entertainment of our People of Faſhi⯑on: And I am ſo firmly convinc'd of the imi⯑tative Spirit, and Genius of the Hoſtile Har⯑lequins of the Two, Comic, Houſes, that I que⯑ſtion not, in the leaſt, but by the Second Week, after Chriſtmas, we ſhall ſee a Dozen, or two, of Bull-Dogs round the Tail of Shep⯑herd, on Drury-Lane-Stage, without being able to bite him, while he curvets and barks with his Back up, and wheels ſafe, in their [172] Center;—And Mr. LUN, at the other Houſe, crawling up the Edge of one of his Scenes, and ſticking to the Roof, like a Spider over the Heads of a ſhouting Pit! where he will ſpin himſelf into their good Graces, 'till their Necks are half broke, with the Subli⯑mity of their Entertainment!

The Plain Dealer. N^o 78.
FRIDAY, December 18. 1724.

LIKE, a Ship that is compell'd, by Tem⯑peſt, to decline, from her due Courſe, I am, ſometimes, driven out of my Way, by the Letters of my Correſpondents; None of which beat ſo violently upon me, as Thoſe from the Feminine Quarter.

I BEGIN to find it Impracticable to work any Good, on that perverſe, and malapert, Sex, by the Weight of Age, and Experience.—If I had not confeſs'd, at my firſt ſetting out, that I was, then, in my Grand Clima⯑cterick, I am verily perſuaded I might have [173] apply'd my ſelf to them, with more Succeſs.—Under their Senſe of my Weakneſs, they deſpiſe the wholeſomeſt of my Lectures; and go on, in open Defiance of the utmoſt I am able to do to them!—Not a Day paſſes, but I have new Intelligence brought me, of their perſiſting in Miſchiefs, and Enormities, which reach, and involve, all Men, from the Canopy to the Cottage.

THE Epiſtles, which this Paper ſhall be fill'd with, will be ſome ſmall Proof, how hard a Task he takes upon him, who would oppoſe himſelf againſt an Influence, which bears down every Thing before, it!—In fine, I ſee there is much more han I once imgain'd, in this Obſervation of an honeſt Mahometan. Five Things, in the World, will always be found uſeleſs: A Candle, in the Sun-ſhine.——Beauty before the Blind.—Rain, that falls, in a Deſart.—A Feaſt, to thoſe who have no Stomach.—And, Sage Advice, when it is given to a Woman, who has no Inclination to follow it.

THE two next LETTERS (the Firſt from a Lover in low Life, writ in ſimple Hone⯑ſty of Heart; and the ſecond in a Strain, and from a Condition, very different) having really been ſent me, in one, and the ſame, Day; I publiſh them, as a Proof, that All Degrees, and Capacities, ‘Sink in the ſoft Captivity together.’

The Plain Dealer. No 79.
MONDAY, December 21. 1724.

I NEVER met with any Accident, which more touchingly ſurpriz'd me, than the Death of my Friend, Sir Portly Rufus, under Circumſtances, with Regard to his Fortune, much inferior to the Figure, he had maintain'd in the World; and which made ſuch Impreſ⯑ſions on his departing Soul, as ſerv'd, at once, to excite my Pity, and inflame my Admiration.

I VISITED him, during his Sickneſs, and found his Family in great Diſorder: The chearful Faces, which were formerly worn, by his Servants, as the lively Signals of his Hoſpitality, were quench'd, and ſadden'd by a Sorrow, that prov'd its Deepneſs, by its Silence.—He was fallen into a forc'd Sleep, [181] when I came down to his Houſe in the Coun⯑try; and it being late in the Evening, I went to Bed, with a Reſolution not to diſturb him, 'till the Morning.—I lay awake, and heard the Clock ſtrike One, indulging my Thoughts, under the Solemnity of the Midnight Dark⯑neſs, with a Thouſand buſy Reflections, on the Inſtability of our Health and Pleaſures; when, from an Old Tower of the Pariſh-Church, which was almoſt contiguous to my Chamber-Window, I heard the Toll, of a Great Bell, ſound out, many Times, diſtinct⯑ly, with a deep, and mournful Fullneſs, which left an unuſual Vibration in the Air; and had ſcarce ceas'd, when I found the whole Family alarm'd; and the Houſe fill'd with Shriekings, and the moſt diſtracted Cries of Sorrow.

I ROSE, and dreſs'd my ſelf, in much Amazement; and, following the Clamour, found it, collected in the Sick Man's Cham⯑ber:—I was aſſur'd, at the crowded En⯑trance, That Sir Portly was a Dying Man.—That the Bell, which had toll'd out, at Mid⯑night, always did ſo, of it's ſelf, before every Death, that was to happen, in the Family:—That it was a Warning, which had never fail'd:—And, That Sir Portly, who had been wak'd, by the Sound of it, was, himſelf, of the Opini⯑on, That he could live but a few Hours.

I FOUND my Friend, ſitting up, in his Bed, very faint, and ſcarce able to ſpeak; and looking round him, with a Mixture of Wildneſs, and of Sorrow, on the Diſtraction [182] of his Aſſembled Family.—As ſoon as he ſaw me near him, He gave me his Hand, with a Glimpſe of Chearfulneſs, which ſeem'd to brighten, through his Anguiſh: And, in⯑ſiſting, with much Earneſtneſs, That I ſhould be left, for ſome Time, alone, with him, the reſt withdrew, and I ſat near him, on the Bed-ſide.—He continued ſilent, for ſeveral Minutes, fixing his Eyes on me, very ſted⯑faſtly, and with much inward Commotion; till at laſt he ſpoke to me, as follows.

HERE he put a Key into my Hand, and di⯑rected me to find a Paper, which I have now in my Poſſeſſion; and from the Subject of which, I ſhall take Occaſion, ſome Time hereafter, to draw more Obſervations than One, for the Uſe of Men of Buſineſs, who may receive Entertainment, and Advantage, from it.—He ſaid ſomething, concerning his Private Affairs, in which my Advice he be⯑liev'd, might be of Service to his Family: And, then aſſum'd a Diſcourſe, on the Toll⯑ing of the Pariſh Bell, and proceeded in it with much Compoſure.

HERE, my Friend was interrupted, by the Impatience of his Family, who broke in up⯑on us, with a Grief, which ſoon appear'd to have too juſt a Ground: For Sir Portly died, in leſs than a quarter of an Hour after.—There were many Circumſtances, in the Man⯑ner [186] of his Death, which will deſerve to be deſcrib'd, in a future Paper: But the melan⯑choly Impreſſion they have left me under, will at preſent be beſt indulg'd by an Ab⯑ſtract of ſome Excellent Verſes, from a POEM of Mrs. ELIZABETH SINGER's, on the Death of Her Husband.—I am not ſure, that I remember them right; for it is long, ſince I read them: But there is ſo much of Beauty, Nature and Paſſion, in them, that the Reader cannot fail to diſcern, and ad⯑mire, the Author's Genius, through what⯑ever Injury they may have ſuffer'd, by any Injuſtice, I may, perhaps, have done them.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 80.
FRIDAY, December 25. 1724.

IT has been juſtly obſerv'd, by our Wri⯑ters, in Defence of the Stage, That It is a GLASS, in which we ſee, what we, our⯑ſelves, are, by the Image of our own Actions, repreſented in the Perſons of Others.—Commend me then, to the Wit, or the Satire, of one of our Theatres, where they have brought Newgate, into their Mirrour, and taught our People of Quality, the elegant Art of breaking Jayl, by Way of Diverſion and Improvement.

TO Treat this Subject, if poſſible, with ſome Appearance of Gravity, either the Taſte of our Audiences muſt be depraved, to a Degree of Horror; or the Judgment of our Maſter-Players corrupted, to a Degree of Pity!—Too long, indeed, have the moſt Succeſsful of our Theatrical Entertainments been Low and Contemptible; but I never ob⯑ſerv'd, before, That they were Ungenerous, [190] and Inhumane!—What Idea will Poſterity conceive of the Preſent Age, when they ſhall read, among a thouſand living Records, to our Infamy, That our Nobility, and Peo⯑ple, of the Firſt Figure, in Life, cou'd de⯑ſcend to be Partakers in an Inſult offered to the Memory, and Misfortune, of a poor Wretch, a Felon, who had, juſt before, been Executed, at Tyburn; by ſitting, contented Spectators, to obſerve his Crimes, and his Miſeries, acted over again, for their Delight, and Inſtruction.

BUT, If (as Lucan ſays of Nero) the Gods cou'd make Way for CAESAR, by no other Means than thoſe dreadful Things which preceded him,—If Nothing leſs cou'd induce the Town, to bear with the inſup⯑portable CAESAR in AEGYPT, than their acting it immediately after SHEPHERD in NEWGATE, the Players have, at leaſt, One Good Argument for permitting it:—They made Way too for a Brother's Tragedy, whoſe tender Heart might, have been broke, if he had, twice, write diſmally, to no Pur⯑poſe.—King JOHN, the Dramatick Abor⯑tive, of laſt Winter, was a puſillanimous Prince, and cou'd condeſcend to hear Rea⯑ſons, why it was neceſſary to ſubmit, for Fear of a forcible Depoſing: But CAESAR was a Hero, and too reſolv'd, to ſhake at Danger!—Tho' all the Serpents, of Africa, ſhou'd have hiſs'd in his Face, he would have regarded them, as little, [191] as he did, the Boxes, the Pit, and the Gallery.

THIS Tragedy is ſo provoking, and co⯑pious a Field for Satire, that it is with Diffi⯑culy, I reſtrain my Pen, from the ſevereſt Licence of juſt Invectives. But I ſoften my Indignation, when I turn my Eye, from the Play to the Author:—The Exemplary Candor, Humanity, Politeneſs, Affability, and Generoſity, of that Gentleman's indulgent Behaviour, with Regard to the Works and Intereſt of other Writers! But, above all, his prodigious Modeſty! Theſe, his extraordinary and well-known, Virtues, overbalance a thouſand Abſurdities in his Tragedy; and determine me to continue ſilent.

THE Theatre, to confeſs the Truth, is a Subject of too much Conſequence, from its Effect on the Morals, and Behaviour of the Publick, to leave it either decent, or reaſon⯑able, to omit Defects in the Stage's Conſtitu⯑tion, and deſcend to the Actor's particular Failings.—But we have Perſons on the Stage, who want not ſome Graces, and Ge⯑nerous Qualities, as well of Body, as of Mind, which might have adorn'd, even the Beſt of thoſe Characters, which they are ac⯑cuſtom'd to repreſent: And of Theſe I ſhall ſpeak ſeriouſly, and with Pleaſure, on Occa⯑ſions which will offer themſelves, when I come, in a little Time, to conſider the Pre⯑ſent State of our Stage, and what Juſtice there may be, in thoſe Pretences to its Im⯑provement, [192] which we have heard ſo very much of, under its Management, as it now ſtands.

BUT, TO return to my firſt Subject: There have not been wanting, publick Marks of Diſapprobation, as often as thoſe ill-cho⯑ſen Entertainments above-mentioned have been exhibited: Yet, they went on, with an unmoveable Steadineſs of Reſolution, which, in a Cauſe, the Reverſe of theirs, might de⯑ſerve to be call'd a Virtue; and, even as the Caſe really ſtands, it is an Accompliſhment, very new, and Extraordinary, and muſt be allow'd not unworthy of the higheſt Admi⯑ration!—That heroic Roman Spirit, which Horace ſpeaks of, in the Motto to my PAPER, went no farther than a private applauding himſelf, at home, in Return for the Hiſſes, which he met with, when abroad: But our Engliſh Firmneſs of Face, can look Reproach in the Teeth, and perſevere, with as much Negligence, and Satisfaction, as if we ſuf⯑fer'd for our Exceſs of Wit, what is levell'd at our Want of Judgment.

I WAS favour'd many Months ſince, with a Sheet or Two, of Excellent Reflexions, which were loſt, by ſome Accident, and have been but lately recover'd. The follow⯑ing Obſervations, ſeem ſo applicable to my preſent Purpoſe, that I cannot do better than borrow them, for Reproof of a barbarous Cuſtom, which had ſpread itſelf, too broad, among us, before it appear'd on one of our Theatres.

[193]AT Paris, and at Amſterdam, there is ſcarce a Week paſſes, without ſome Publick Execution; and yet, tho' there are News-Papers in Abundance, we ſeldom, or never, find any Account of that Sort, in them.—They think, and perhaps juſtly enough, That it is a Point of National Credit, to conceal, with as much Decency as they can, the Enormities of their Countrymen.—On the contrary, our Writers for the Day, and the Week, watch with Earneſtneſs, for the Op⯑portunity, and are ſure to paſs by no ſuch Subject.—It often makes a very Glaring Paragraph; but is ſometimes unhappily ſci⯑tuated. I have frequently known a Change at Court yok'd with a Remove at Tyburn; and both follow'd, cloſe in the Rear, by an Account of ſome Church-Advancement; or new-drawn Matrimonial Tye, among People of Quality.

I ONLY hint at theſe Liberties, and de⯑ſire to deal gently with my Contempora⯑ries.—There are other Wretches among us, who attend the Gibbet, like Ravens, or Vul⯑tures, and expect their Subſiſtence from it.—Not a poor Criminal can be hang'd, but they break open his expiring Lips, and rob him of his Laſt Words. When he has ſuffer'd the Sentence of the Law, he is condemn'd, afreſh, to a Libel: And is far from be⯑ing at Reſt, even after he has ſurrender'd his Life to the Halter, his Cloaths to the Hangman, and his Body to the Sur⯑geons! [194] For, then, come the Scribler, the Pamphleteer, and the Biographer of New⯑gate, who draw out his Good Name, and quarter it; and hang up his Reputation, in Effigie, They give him a Quarto, or an Octavo Shrowd; and fringe, and flouriſh it with his Birth, and Parentage.—Hence, the Ordinary, to preſerve his Perquiſites, is driven upon the Neceſſity of advertiſing againſt Counterfeits; and, has, ſometimes, no better Expedient, than to publiſh the Poſthumous Works of his Communicants, even before they are yet departed!

TO be half-hang'd, has been the Caſe of one or two Sufferers; but to be twice hang'd, is a very great Hardſhip: And when a Cri⯑minal's Account of Himſelf is ſuppos'd to be true, it ſeems a Mifortune that They, who wilfully, belye, him, ſhould be permit⯑ted to ſurvive him.—If the Sufferer can write and read, then, beſides his Birth, and Education, his Tryal, and Confeſſion, we have his Laſt Works, and Compoſitions. If he is married, we have his Widow's Lamen⯑tation. If he dies, troubled, and unſa⯑tisfied, we have his Ghoſt: And if his Life has been at all remarkable, we have His Hiſtory, and Adventures.—Some ready Compiler of Newgate, bundles up his Me⯑moirs, and deſcribes his Exploits, in ſo diſ⯑creet, and adapted, Style, That the Plea⯑ſantry of the Relation is more apt to prevail, [195] on the Young, and the Giddy (who are the common Readers of ſuch Tracts) to imitate a Life of ſo much ſeeming Heroick Extra⯑vagance, than to take Example, from the fatal End of it.

I KNOW not whether ſuch Expoſing Me⯑thods as Theſe, are not ſuffer'd to take Place, by Way of Advance upon the Lenity of our Engliſh Executions; and as a Counterballance to the Foreign Severities of Torture, and Mu⯑tilation. If there is any ſuch Depth of Poli⯑tick Refinement, in the Indulgence, which is ſhewn this Practice, the Dead feel nothing that relates to them; and the Living, I am perſwaded, are very little the better, for ſuch Paper Executions. But, of This, I can ven⯑ture to be poſitive, That ſhould ſome Drudge for the Bookſeller's Benefit, make a Collecti⯑on of all Works, of this kind, and ſome mer⯑cenary Tranſlator dreſs it out, in a Foreign Language, our Neighbours, and our Poſte⯑rity, might be tempted to believe, That the preſent Generation of Engliſhmen were a Na⯑tion of Thieves, and Pick-pockets.

The Plain Dealer. No 81.
MONDAY, December 28. 1724.

IT is a Rule, in Converſation, that he, who keeps all the Talk to himſelf, never pleaſes, ſo much as one, who liſtens, in his Turn, to what is ſaid, by the reſt of the Company.—The ſame Obſervation will hold good, with Regard to ſuch a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER; I muſt, ſometimes, fall civily back, and give Way to my Corre⯑ſpondents; or I ſhall incur the Reproach of Writing rather to entertain My-ſelf, than to delight, or oblige my Readers.

The Plain Dealer. No 82.
FRIDAY, January 1. 1725.

AN Evil Spirit had taken Poſſeſſion of one of the Villages, in Lapland, and turn'd the Inhabitants into Bears: By which Means, being depriv'd of the Diſcretion of Humane Creatures, and unable to provide for Themſelves; the King of the Country committed them to the Keeping of two or three of his Beef-Eaters; who took the Of⯑fice, with no other Proſpect, than to live at their Eaſe, on the Perquiſites of it; and were conſequently, more inclinable to provide Diet, to their own Taſte, than to that of the Meta⯑morphos'd Animals, which had been deli⯑ver'd into their Cuſtody.—They had, how⯑ever, ſo much Gratitude, for the Profit, ac⯑cruing from their Grant, as to reſolve, That the poor Creatures ſhou'd want nothing, that was Strong and Savoury: But they had not [205] the Judgment, to conſider, That a Man, when he becomes a Bear, requires a coarſer Kind of Nouriſhment, than he was accu⯑ſtomed to, while a Rational Creature!—They gave 'em nothing to drink but Brandy; and fed 'em with Cock-Broth, and Forc'd-Meats; 'till they, All, grew giddy, and light-headed, and were taken with a dange⯑rous Vertigo.

A YOUNG Shepherd, who had been brought up a little wildly; and, who, by li⯑ving much among Beaſts, had acquainted himſelf with the Nature of Bears, under⯑took to Board 'em Cheaper; and built, and open'd, to that End, a New Houſe of Enter⯑tainment; where, for the ſame Rates which were paid his Rivals, he treated the Ani⯑mals, in their own Way, with raw Horſe Fleſh, inſtead of Ragouſts; and Spring Wa⯑ter, in the Place of Brandy.—The Bears were ſtrangely delighted, at a Change, they were, ſo able to reliſh; and flock'd, in Tranſ⯑port, to their New Ordinary; where they grinn'd, and grew fat, upon a Diet, which was adapted to their Palates: So that, in a little Time, not a Cub, of any Quality, cou'd make a Meal, upon their Old Commons. And the poor Shepherd, who provided for them, ſo judiciouſly, had all their Cuſtom, for the future, and became Richer, than the King's own Bear-Wards!

[206]How ſuch an odd Story as this came in my Way, I know not; But I will leave it, as I found it: For I am in a Humour to talk of the Theatres.

THE Royal Company of Comedians differs from the South-Sea-Company, the Bank, and other Acting Companies, of this City, in this one Point, among more, That It has Dire⯑ctors, but no Governour.—It is certain, how⯑ever, that thoſe Gentlemen, whom they call their Managers, have had all poſſible Advan⯑tage on their Side. The Court-Authority, and Countenance, went with them.—The Noble, and the Ignoble, join'd in a long, and unreaſonable Partiality, to ſupport them, without Rivals; in direct Oppoſition to the Intereſt of their own Pleaſure; which is, un⯑doubtedly, beſt provided for, when Rival Theatres contend, which ſhall, moſt deſerve Encouragement.—It is worth while, then to examine, how they loſt this Advantage. And I take the Fact to be thus.

THE good Old Patentee, of the New Thea⯑tre died, under a Length of Oppreſſion; and left his Right, and his Houſe, to his Son; an Unfear'd, and Friendleſs Youth! of whom it might then have been ſaid, as of Chamont, in the Orphan. ‘His Hopes were all his Fortune!’

HE Open'd, againſt a Tide of Prejudice; and acted many Years, not only, without [207] Favour, but almoſt without Notice, at leaſt from the Faſhionable World.—He try'd every Reaſonable Art of Pleaſing, without Succeſs!—He reviv'd the beſt old Old Plays, and brought on ſeveral New Ones! but had, often the Mortification to oppoſe his own Induſtry, and the ſublimeſt Scenes of Shakeſpear, to the cold Encouragement of Empty Boxes!—What ſhou'd he do, in this Caſe?—The Torrent of Opinion was againſt him. Good Senſe, and ſolid Thinking, were as Uſeleſs to him as his Boxkeepers!—At laſt, by a Quickneſs in his Natural Wit; and a Satyri⯑cal Sharpneſs in his Obſervation, He perceiv'd he had nothing to do, if he wou'd have the Game play'd into his Hands, but to lay aſide his Judgment, and abandon Himſelf to his Fancy.

IN Purſuance of this lucky Diſcovery, He compos'd a New Species of Entertainment, which had an infinite deal of Senſe in them; but it was only the Senſe of Seeing.—It is ſcarce poſſible to conceive the Eaſe, which this Reformation of the Stage gave the Bulk of our Genteel Audiences!—They, cou'd, now, laugh out, without Reſtraint; for they were no longer in Danger of being Merry, in the wrong Place! They felt no Weight of Words, which had formerly lain heavy upon their Underſtandings: And, the Burden of their Attention being, ſo commodiouſly, ligh⯑ten'd, they came, and ſaw, and were ſatisfied.

[208]THE old Managers were indiſcreet enough not only to envy, but to imitate him.—They made That their Choice, which, in their Rival, had been Neceſſity. But, at⯑temping it, with inferior Genius, they ap⯑pear'd ſo aukward, and ungraceful in it, that they compell'd their partial Admirers to take Notice, That they were excell'd—And, ſo taught 'em, from that Time forward, to believe it probable, That, ſince in one Point, they had, ſo manifeſtly, the Diſadvantage, they might, in Others too, have been rather Fortunate, than ſo Deſerving, as they had concluded them.

THUS, the Young, and Oppreſs'd, became a a Match for the Old and Proſperous.—He has continued, ever ſince to maintain the Ground he won; 'till the Current is, now, turn'd, and diſpos'd to run, in his Favour.

SO far, his Wit has carried him. We are to look out for his Judgment hereafter. But, for my Part, I am of Opinion, That, when he ſhall have toy'd us into Good Humour enough to forgive him a little Reaſon, he will have Courage and Generoſity, to reſtore the Stage to its Dignity; and exchange our Ju⯑leps for Subſtantial Diets, as ſoon as our ſick Stomachs ſhall have recover'd Strength enough to digeſt it.—There is ſcarce a ſurer Proof, That a Man has Worth, than the Re⯑ſpect, which he ſhews the Worthy: And I was delighted, the other Day, with the Praiſes, in which I heard it told, at an Aſſembly, That the [209] OLD BATCHELOR is, by this Gentle⯑man's Voluntary Offer, to be acted, next Monday, at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields, for the Benefit of ſo Learned a Benefactor to the Stage, as Mr. DENNIS.

UPON my expreſſing ſome Concern, That it was not rather a Play, of Mr. Dennis's own Writing, I was inform'd, That the Maſter of that Theatre, who ſought all Opportunities of ſhewing his Eſteem of ſo Excellent, and ſo Injur'd a Judge of Wit, and Learning, had left the Choice of the Play to Mr. Dennis him⯑ſelf; who had pitch'd upon the above-men⯑tion'd, becauſe it was a Work of his old Friend Mr. Congreve.—I acknowledg'd the Generoſity of the Maſter of the Theatre, and the Modeſty of the Gentleman, whom he treats with ſo well-judg'd a Humanity: But I cou'd not avoid indulging a Fit of talkative Spleen, againſt that Malice or Ignorance, which has more than once, appear'd in the Diſcounte⯑nance of ſome Writings, from which the Name of Mr. Dennis, will, long, continue to receive Honour, after his Body ſhall be Duſt and Aſhes!

THE Stupidity which follows Prejudice, has made Thouſands of his Cotemporaries inſen⯑ſible of his Great Merit, which, if they al⯑low'd their Reaſon to examine it, they wou'd be charm'd by, and take a Pride to encourage.—The Terror with which young Writers have accuſtom'd themſelves to hear, and to talk of, his Auſterity, and of his Averſion [210] againſt Scriblers, has ſpread abroad a falſe Opinion, that he is Ill-natur'd, where he is only impartial: And, that he is an Enemy to Wit and Learning, while he is only ſuch to the Prophaners of them.

IT is pleaſant to obſerve, to what a whimſi⯑cal Degree this Dread of Criticks has been propagated; and how far down, into Low Life, we may trace the Effects of our Poet's miſtaken Outcries, who, by giving their Shep⯑herds the Name of Wolves, have taught the Clowns to ſet their Dogs upon 'em, and cut off the Defence of their own Fold. Honeſt Mr. David Cook, the ingenious Bell-Man of Pye-Street-Corner, is, I find, againſt the Open⯑ing of the New Year, under terrible Appre⯑henſions, from the Impreſſions he has been fill'd with of the Dangers, all Good Works are expos'd to.

I WAS viſiting, where one of honeſt Mr. Cook's GREAT SIRS ask'd him, Why he was afraid of Criticks? and was much edified by his Anſwer—One Mr. Pope, Sir, an inge⯑nious Member, of OUR Fraternity, knows much, of theſe Matters; and has ſaid it, in Print, That

[211]THO' I ſmil'd at the Turn of this Reaſon for the Fears of ſo ſafe a Muſe as Mr. Cook's, yet I can't help wiſhing, that no great Wri⯑ter had ever allow'd himſelf to join the com⯑mon Cry againſt Criticks.—If the Poets have no Art, they are a Race of Contemp⯑tible Triflers! and if they have Art, they have Criticiſm.—Whoever is a good Poet, is, and muſt be, Himſelf, a Critick.—To be afraid of a Judge, is the Mark of a criminal Conſcience.—But the ſevere, and manly, Cenſures, which are peculiar to Mr. Dennis's Writings, have encreas'd the Number of his Enemies, by a piercing Sharpneſs, which they carry with them? Such Arguers, if they had liv'd with Cato, wou'd have made War upon that noble Plainneſs, which diſtinguiſh'd, and ſupported, his Cha⯑racter: And refus'd the Reverence, due to his Vertues, becauſe His Manners were not ſupple enough, to fall in with their Notions of Politeneſs.

THE beſt Way to become acquainted with a Writer is, to look for him in his Writings:—His Soul, which is his Nobleſt Self, lives there, and is, there diſcovered.—How often have I remember'd (with Pain, for the In⯑famy it muſt, one Day bring us) That the moſt generous, and extenſive Deſign, that ever was conceived by Man, with Relation to the Groundwork of Criticiſm, in Poetry, was once, undertaken, by this Gentleman, [212] and a Subſcription for it propos'd, upon the moſt moderate Terms, with ſo diſproporti⯑on'd a Succeſs, that after a Year or two's fruitleſs Application, he publiſh'd a Specimen of his intended Work, with an Apology for not proceeding in it: Becauſe, after ſo long a Trial, he had been able to procure no more than Seventy or Eighty Subſcribers, whoſe NAMES he printed, to their Glory! For, they will be read, an Age or two hence, with a Veneration, not unlike That, with which the Athenians engrav'd thoſe of the Three Hundred P [...]triot Greeks, who defended the Streight of Thermopylae, againſt the Fury of the Perſian Army.—So, wou'd thoſe No⯑ble Few have defended the Honour of their Country's Judgment, againſt an Inundation, of Ignorance and Preſumption.

WHAT will make this Fact more wonder'd at, is,—That it happen'd at a Time, when a boundleſs Profuſion of Encouragement was pour'd out, upon all Pretenſions, but Thoſe of Learning, and of Modeſty!—But it will not, I hope, be believ'd, That the Tragedy of APPIUS and VIRGINIA was acted, Three or Four Times, and forgotten, in ſpite of thoſe powerful Paſſions, and ſtrong Pi⯑ctures of tranſported Nature, which it every where abounds with: Or, that Shakeſpear's CORIOLANUS cou'd be alter'd, by ſuch a Hand as Mr. Dennis's, and ſo ſtrikingly, to its Advantage, and yet brought on, with⯑out Succeſs, where Shakeſpear's RICHARD [213] THE THIRD, rack'd, and mutilated, by a barbarous Player, ran into Fame, and Ap⯑plauſe, and drew Audiences, every Seaſon!

BUT I can never expect Room, in ſuch a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER, to touch the Merits of this Gentleman's Writings, for whoſe Benefit, as above, the Play of Mon⯑day next, is to be acted: And, who, now, deſcending apace into the Vale of Years, ought to find his Way made ſmother for him; and loſe Sight of theſe malignant Enmities, which his ſtronger Days have grappled with. There can be no-body, who is a Friend, either to Learning, or Humanity, and who has his Heart in the right Place, but muſt feel a ge⯑nerous Delight, in being preſent, for His Be⯑nefit, whoſe whole Life has been taken up, with Eſſays, for the Benefit of Others.—The Brave and the Beautiful, will agree, in a Reſolution, to Shine out, upon this Occaſi⯑on, where They will be known to appear in the Cauſe of Wiſdom: And, where, to be ſeen, is to be honour'd, Themſelves, for doing Honour to unrewarded Excellence.

The Plain Dealer. No 83.
MONDAY, January 4. 1725.

I HAVE ſomewhere, met with a Story of one of the ancient Princes, of the Eaſt, I think, it was ANTIOCHUS.—He was hunting, and loſt his Followers; and Night coming on, after a tedious Wandering, over Heaths, and Foreſts he came at laſt, to a little Cottage, where the Poor People were at Supper, and enter⯑tain'd him, very chearfully, as a Traveller, who had loſt his way. The chief Subject of their Diſcourſe, was concerning the King, and his Miniſters.—As for the King himſelf, they accus'd him of no Vices.—They ſpoke of him with much Duty; and agreed, That he meant well, and was deſirous of his Subject's Hap⯑pineſs: But he was not, they ſaid, ſo abſo⯑lutely, the Monarch of his Miniſters, as of his People: Submitting his own Senſe of Affairs, [215] and the Authority of his Determinations, to Men of leſs Vertue, and Underſtanding, than Himſelf; and giving Way to Eaſe, and In⯑dolence, while he devol'd the Power of his Office, on Wretches, whoſe Hearts were too narrow, and their Paſſions too violent, to de⯑ſerve any Government at all; much leſs That of a Kingdom!

THE King ſaid little to all This; but laid it up, for his Uſe, and Benefit: And, in the Morning, when his Guards, and the Great Men, of his Court, having follow'd the Track of his Horſe, were come to him, at the Cottage, he receiv'd them with this Declaration.—You are miſtaken, if you ſup⯑poſe, I have been, all Night, out of my Way.—I have ſat in Counſel, with an Aſſembly of the only Honeſt, and faithful Adviſers, I met with, ſince I became your Sovereign. Nor did I ever hear a Word, of the True Condition of my Affairs before I learnt it, in this Cottage.

THE Condition of a Nation, where Mi⯑nions have their Prince in Pupilage, is ſo vaſt⯑ly the Reverſe of Ours, That a Diſcourſe, on ſuch a Subject muſt be forc'd to draw Exam⯑ples, either from the Hiſtories of Foreign Countries, or from our own, remov'd, far backward.—But, as the Bleſſing of a perfect Health is never better underſtood, and valued, than while he who is ſo happy as to enjoy it, employs himſelf in reading the Symptoms, of ſome dangerous, and dread⯑ful Diſeaſe, ſo the Comfort, which we, Free [216] Britons muſt receive, from a Compariſon, of our own Happineſs, with the Miſery of Others, is an Argument, which convinces me, that no Theme deſerves, more juſtly, the Conſi⯑deration of a PLAIN DEALER.

I WILL venture to lay it down, as a Maxim, That, where the Soul of a Miniſter is not Great enough, to overlook, and for⯑give, and to drown all Perſonal Regards, in the Ocean of his Publick Cares, let his other Vertues, and good Qualities, be never ſo nu⯑merous, and ſo ſhining, he will confound his Prince's Intereſt, with his own private Re⯑ſentments. Inſtead of healing Diviſions, he will inflame them; and, by a Thouſand paſſionate Extravagancies, draw upon himſelf a Univerſal Hatred; and upon his Sovereign, a Contempt, that is the moſt dangerous of all Motives to Sedition; and, what wiſe Princes have been careful to guard themſelves againſt, by a Spirit, and Activity, which, even where they have not been lov'd, ſerv'd, at leaſt, to make them fear'd; which is the next ſure An⯑chor of Obedience.

THE Beſt of Princes have had their Favou⯑rites: But, it is the eaſieſt Thing in the World to diſtinguiſh the MINION from the MINISTER. The MINISTER is his Prince's Inſtrument; The MINION makes an Inſtrument of his Prince—Under a MINI⯑STER, the common Themes, of all publick Converſation, are his Great Deſigns, for the Ornament, or the Intereſt of the Kingdom—[217] Benevolence, Mercy, Wiſdom, Generoſity, and Magnificence, flow down upon the People, in a Current of new Laws, and Benefits.—On the contrary, under a MINION, nothing is talk'd of, but his Subtlety, his Malice, and his Avarice!—Little Weathercock Arti⯑fices, and temporary Shifts, and Expedients, ſtand in Place of a ſteady Policy, and a manly Courſe of Equanimity.—Oppreſſion, Pride, Suſpicion, Faction, Bitterneſs, and Partiality, are the Products of his Influence: And the Law, which ſhou'd be the Meaſure of his Rule, is the Noſe of Wax, to his Am⯑bition!—The MINISTER takes Delight to inquire out Men of Learning, or of Vertue, that his Bounty may raiſe them high enough to ſhine, like Stars, upon his Adminiſtrati⯑on!—The MINION hates Diſcernment, be⯑cauſe he knows himſelf unfit to be look'd into; and, therefore, appropriates Rewards, and Preferments, to the Mercenary, and the Ignorant.—In ſhort, the MINISTER is wiſe; But the MINION is only cunning.

IT is finely obſerv'd by Ariſtotle, in his Diſcourſe concerning Government, ‘"That Monarchy, when its Power is wiſely divi⯑ded, among diſtinct Counſels, none en⯑croaching on the other's Boundaries, draws into it ſelf all Advantages, which are at⯑tainable by any of the Common-Wealth Syſtems: But, is in nothing ſo weak, and unſtable, as in the Folly of partial Kings, who, ruling by their Paſſion, inſtead of [218] their Reaſon, remove Truth out of their hearing, and ſubmit their Will to the Guidance of ſome one, ſole, Director; neither examining Things, Themſelves, nor allowing Others to examine them.’

SUCH a Political Monſter of a MINION, we read of, in the Annals of France, ‘"In the Year Nine Hundred and Nineteen, (ſays the Author, in his Second Book) Charles liv'd, as it were, alone, in Soiſſons; deſpis'd, and forſaken, by his Peers, on Account of one HAGANON, of Laon; a Man, of vulgar Extraction; but who was, ſolely, truſted with the King's Secrets; and without whoſe Concurrence, no Mat⯑ter of Importance, cou'd be done, either in the Court, or in the Kingdom. But the Credit of this New Upſtart was the Cauſe of the King's Ruin; for the Great Men reſolv'd, at laſt, no longer to endure, that ſuch a baſe Scoun⯑drel ſhou'd be exalted, over the Heads of the whole Nobility.’

HAGI-JUSOUF, a Governor of Arabia, under the Reign of Caliph Abdulmelec, met with a Stroke of unexpected Satyre, which gives a lively Repreſentation of the General Odium, theſe buſie MINIONS are always de⯑ſtin'd to live under.—He was hated for his Cruelty, and Exactions; but carried, never⯑theleſs, an Outſide of Charity and Religion. [219] He met a Dervis, one Day, in the Street; and, having ſtop't, to give him Alms, re⯑commended himſelf to his Prayers.—The Dervis, lifting up his Eyes, to Heaven, cry'd out, with a loud Voice, Take him from us, O Great God! Take him from us, I beſeech Thee!—Hagi-Juſouf was not ſatisfied with the Turn of this Prayer; and began to mur⯑mur at the Dervis: But the Holy Plain Dea⯑ler replied, with great Earneſtneſs and Humi⯑lity,—It is good for you, and for All the Muſſulmans.

THE Truth is, there is an unavoidable Ne⯑ceſſity, that Princes ſhou'd be aſſiſted by ſuch Subjects as they think fit to Favour: But it is happy, where the Maſter has Spirit, and the Servant Moderation: For, in that Caſe, the Miſchief will be either prevented, or cor⯑rected, before its Progreſs is become conſidera⯑ble.—Opinion, and the Obſtinancy of Rea⯑ſoning, have made a mighty Noiſe in the World, concerning the Differences between Arbitrary and Limited Government: But, in the Nature of Things, there is neither Abſo⯑lute Power nor Freedom; taking them in their full Senſe.—Every Whale has its little leading Fiſh, and follows it, with a Kind of unweildy Obſequiouſneſs! This, in the Sea, has been thought a Wonder, but few Things, on Land, are more uſual, and familiar.—The moſt ter⯑rible, of the State Leviathans, have been ma⯑nag'd, and led along, by a Wife, a Miſtreſs, [220] a Favourite, or ſome other ſuch dimunitive Pilot: So that in an unlimited Signification, there is no ſuch Thing as Monarchy.

THE Grand Signior it is true, can cauſe any of his Subjects to be Strangled, without aſſigning other Reaſons for it, than his Impe⯑rial Will, and Pleaſure. But, how ſeldom is this done, at his own mere Motion; and how often, at that of his Vizier's, and tyrannick Minions?—I my ſelf, (ſays a Writer of the laſt Age) have known ſome Sovereigns, ſo far Strangers to what was convenient, that they wou'd ſcarce grant, or deny, any Thing, out of the Preſence of their Secretary.

THERE is but one Conſolation, which can give Men Patience, while they are ſuffering, under the Inſolence of ſuch Upſtart Tyrants: And that is, their reaſonable Hope, that they ſhall live to ſee the Puniſhment, when the Guilt is ripe enough for Vengeance—It is long, before a Prince can break out of the obſcuring Miſt, which an Evil Counſellor will conjure up, and involve him in—But, when by Accident, or Reflection, he comes, at length, to clear his Eye-ſight, and ſee Things, in their proper Colours, the Minion, then firſt, becomes a Benefit to the People he has injur'd; for he leaves them a Protection, in the Example of his Fall, which may guard them, in Times to come, againſt the Malice of a New Oppreſſor.

[221]THE laſt Emperor of China, was one of the greateſt Monarchs, of his Age, and for nothing more celebrated, than the Vigour, and Strictneſs, of his Juſtice: But he was warm, in his Purſuits of Pleaſure, and impa⯑tient of Interruption, when his Mind was intent upon it.—The Viceroy of one of the Provinces, of that vaſt Empire that lay moſt remote from the Imperial City, had wrong⯑fully confiſcated the Eſtate of an honeſt Mer⯑chant, and reduc'd his Family to the extremeſt Miſery.—The poor Man found means to travel as far as to the Emperor's Court, and carried back with him a Letter to the Vice⯑roy, commanding him to reſtore the Goods, which he had taken, ſo illegally.

FAR from obeying this Command, the Viceroy put the Merchant in Priſon; but he had the good Fortune to eſcape, and went, once more, to the Capital, where he caſt him⯑ſelf at the Emperor's Feet, who treated him with much Humanity, and gave Orders, that he ſhould have another Letter. The Merchant wept, at this Reſolution, and repreſented how ineffectual the Firſt had prov'd; and the Reaſons he had to fear, that the Second wou'd be as little regarded.

THE Emperor, who had been ſtopt, by this Complaint, as he was going, with much Haſte, to Dine in the Apartment of a Favou⯑rite Lady, grew a little diſcompos'd, and anſwer'd, with ſome Emotion—I can do no more than ſend my Commands: And, if he [222] refuſes to obey them, put thy Foot upon his Neck.—I implore your Majeſty's Compaſſion, re⯑ply'd the Merchant, holding faſt the Empe⯑ror's Robe, his Power is too mighty for my Weakneſs: And your Juſtice preſcribes a Remedy, which your Wiſdom has never ex⯑amin'd.

THE Emperor had, by this Time, re⯑collected himſelf; and raiſing the Merchant from the Ground, ſaid, You are in the Right—To complain of him was your Part, but it is mine to ſee him puniſh'd.—I will appoint Commiſſioners, to go back with you, and make ſearch into the Grounds of his Proceeding; with Power, if they find him guilty, to deliver him into your Hands, and leave you Viceroy, in his ſtead.—For, Since you have taught me how to Go⯑vern, You muſt be able to Govern for me.

The Plain Dealer. No 84.
FRIDAY, January 8. 1725.

MANY Writers, beſides the Author of my Motto, have obſerv'd, That the Lighteſt Griefs ſpeak loudeſt! And, it is doubtful, whether there wou'd ariſe moſt Occaſion for Mirth, or Pity, cou'd we ſee, at one View, the numberleſs Variety of little Accidents, which are magnified into Miſeries, by the Impatience, with which we kindle ourſelves, upon every unwelcome Trifle, that runs counter to our Wiſh, or Humour; or ſquares not exactly with our Intereſt.

IF People cou'd diveſt themſelves of the Prejudices of Self-Love, half the Vexations, which imbitter Life, and rob Good-Fortune of its Tranquility, wou'd be found to owe their Exiſtence either to our Pride, or our Avarice. But I am afraid, I ſhall touch this Subject, with very little Effect; becauſe I have a Thouſand Times, obſerved, That there is a healing Quality in Vanity, which cures the [224] Wounds of good Counſel. Lady Low-taſte finds SENECA ſo dull, where he lays open a ſordid Heart, and ſhames it, by a Compari⯑ſon with the noble Lovelineſs of Generoſity, That ſhe can neither reliſh, nor ſupport him, but falls aſleep, over his Philoſophy, as the readieſt Way to be even with him!—Yet, who ſo lively in her Attention, and ſo tran⯑ſported an Admirer of this very Seneca, where he happens to ſpeak kindly, of any Vertue, ſhe is conſcious of, in herſelf; or ſeverely, of of any Vice, which ſhe can charge upon Her Acquaintance!—There are Two Ends to the Glaſs, thro' which we look into ourſelves, and others. One contracts Objects; and one enlarges them: And, it is the pleaſanteſt Obſervation in the World, to remark, how kindly Nature has inſtructed the ſillieſt, and blindeſt, of both Sexes, to apply either End of this Perſpective, ſo as to anſwer their par⯑ticular Purpoſe, with as much Readineſs, and Sagacity, as if their Wit, were no leſs than it ſhou'd be.

I AM overwhelm'd with Letters of Com⯑plaint, againſt Fate, Ill-Luck, Blind Fortune, and the whole Train of malevolent Chimera's, under whoſe Shadow it is uſual to hide the Effects of our own Miſcarriages.—Arietta, a brown Coquette, in her Five and Fortieth Year of Fluttering, has fill'd Three Pages of an angry Epiſtle, Falſehood, Traitor, and In⯑conſtancy, againſt a Couſin of Ned Volatile's, who lov'd her Four Months, and a Week, [225] and then viſited her no more, upon a private Intelligence from Mrs. Lucy, that his Name was down, in her Lady's Liſt, as the Nine and Fiftieth, of her abſolute Conqueſts!

WHAT ſhall we ſay to theſe inſupportable Misfortunes? They muſt be ſubmitted to, with as much Reſignation as the Nature of them will bear: And, for what remains, I can do no more than provide a little Comfort for ſuch afflicted Vertue, by a Proof, That there are Others, almoſt equally wretched!—If, therefore, Arietta will let me know what Part of the Town ſhe ſhines in, I will wait on her, the Day after, and apply a Letter to her wounded Heart, which I receiv'd from a Druggiſt's Wife, in the City, who had Three⯑ſcore Tickets, in the laſt Lottery, and was ſo ſtrangely Unfortunate, that ſhe clear'd but about Two Hundred Pound, over and above her whole Adventure, tho' an ordinary Crea⯑ture, over-againſt her, that had but Three Tickets, in the Wheel, cou'd have Two of 'em come out ſuch Prizes, that ſhe ſets up, truly, for a Fortune!

THE following Letter, I am afraid, muſt be number'd amonſt the Curae leves; tho' there is an Air of Concern, and Sincerity, in it, which perſwades me, That the Author is, in good Earneſt, at a Loſs, how he ſhou'd act, in the Buſineſs he writes about.

'METHINKS the Difficulty, in this Caſe, is not ſo great, as the lively Painting which deſcribes it, makes it appear, upon a firſt View.—Since the Lover is ſo worthy of the Lady, (if he had no other Means of reaching, or being recommended to her, but thro' the Hands of This Friend) my Correſpondent, without all Doubt, wou'd have ſtood bound to deliver the Letter; and try the utmoſt of his Influence, to render it ſucceſsful: And the rather, becauſe Intereſt only, and not Merit, ſeems to have recommended the Rival.—But, ſince it is ſo eaſy to find other Means, as effectual; and the Favours, receiv'd by my Correſpondent, from the Lady's Family, are ſtrong Motives againſt his Friend's em⯑ploying him, where there is no viſible Neceſ⯑ſity, that confines the Choice to him only, he appears, to me, a little miſtaken, when he ſtrips Friendſhip of that generous Freedom, without which, it can never ſubſiſt; and puniſhes himſelf with ſuch inward Conflicts, in Support of a Delicacy;; which, tho' it beau⯑tifies the Face of Friendſhip, is rather the Dreſs, than the Body, of it.

[229]OF all human Paſſions, this, of Friend⯑ſhip, is the moſt refin'd, and I might, almoſt, ſay too, the moſt ardent. But I wou'd be un⯑derſtood to ſpeak of the Thing: For the Word is much more common, and leſs powerful.—Moſt People, when they ſay Friend, mean Com⯑panion, or Acquaintance. But, alas! what in⯑finite Difference!—How Few can diſtinguiſh between Friendſhip, (which is a Parity of Souls) and Affection, which is a Claim of Blood; or a Tye of mutual Intereſts; or an Agreement, of Hopes, or Fears, or Principles, or Hu⯑mours; or any of theſe miſtaken Fellowſhips, which are Parts of Friendſhip, but not Friend⯑ſhip.

I SAID, it was the moſt refin'd, of all our Paſſions: And it is ſo, from its Diſ-intereſted⯑neſs, its Nobleneſs, and its Exemption from all Earthly Motives. It is a ſtrugling of the conſcious Soul, to enlarge her Limits, in the Body, and exert herſelf, in generous Sallies, into the Purlieus of Immortality!—It is, in⯑deed, a Deſire; but, it is ſuch a Deſire, as the Angels burn with!—It is an Exaltation of the Human Nature, by a powerful Mixture of the Divine: And ſerves to give us an Ideal Fore⯑taſte of our Buſineſs, when we ſhall have out⯑ſail'd Time, and launch'd into Eternity!

I had a Friend, ſays our immortal Dryden, in ſome, or other, of his Tragedies;—I for⯑get the particular Place, but muſt, always, remember the Beautiful Deſcription!

BUT I am entering on a Subject, which ſhou'd I do more, than barely touch it, wou'd carry me away with it, into a Length, in which I might loſe my ſelf, and my Reader: And the beſt Way I can find, to prevent it, will be to put an End to this Day's Paper, with two Excellent Stanza's, from Spencer, which are very ſtrong, and elegant, upon the Subject.

The Plain Dealer. No 85.
MONDAY, January 11. 1725.

I AM perfectly in the Sentiments of the Ingenious Gentleman, who ſent me the fore⯑going Letter;—But, the Subject which he has recommended, can never hope to ſucceed better, than under the Care of ſo able a Hand, as his own: And, for that Reaſon, I am very deſirous of the Continuance of his Correſpondence.

[237]THE Opinion, That Merchandizing deba⯑ſes Blood, is a Folly, worthy only of the Tribe, to whom this Gentleman imputes it.—It is a Truth, too well known, that the INDOLENT and UNTHINKING, Part, of our Nobility and Gentry, is a very large Part of them: But (Heaven be prais'd!) not at all a conſiderable One.—They are a Race of plea⯑ſant Creatures, who had the Honour to be born, for their own Eaſe; but for the Enter⯑tainment of other People.—They put me in mind of the Innkeeper in the STRATAGEM, who was able at preſent, to produce none of the Good Things, his Gueſts wanted, but had the Satisfaction of, remembring that he could have furniſh'd 'em, All, if they had din'd with him, laſt SUNDAY:—No Matter how pur-blind a Man of Quality happens to be, ſince he had a Great Grandfather, that was ſharp ſighted! He may be, a Fool too, (HIM⯑SELF)—but it ought to be Scandalum Mag⯑natum to laugh at him.—For he has Proofs, in the Herald's Office, That his FOREFATHERS cou'd act wiſely.

WE have the Comfort, however, to know, that All our Lords, are not LORDS OF TRADE: If they were, my Correſpondent's Excellent Notions might be urg'd, with an Effect, but ill-proportion'd to their Value; and fall un⯑der the Noble Eye of not a Few able Mini⯑ſters, of the ſame Stamp with a famous One, in a late Reign, who, when a certain Knight, a Great Trader, preſented him with a Scheme [238] for the Improvement of Commerce, threw it back to him, with a wiſe Contempt, and ask'd him, Whether he thought, that Men of HIS QUALITY, had nothing to do but to read Papers!

TO the juſt, and lively, Obſervation, That a Merchant ought to be qualify'd for a Mini⯑ſter of State, I will add this Wiſh, of my own,—That we may, never have a Miniſter of State, who is not qualified for a Merchant!—Not Trade alone, but Politicks, would ſoon feel the Benefit of ſo new a Regulation.—Yet, there is a Happineſs, ſtill greater; and it is the Laſt, the warmeſt, Hope, of thoſe, to whoſe ſucceſsful Induſtry we owe our Com⯑merce!—That the Way might always lie open, to the Ear of our Princes Themſelves, without paſſing the narrow Poſterns, which Truth is often oblig'd to wait at, 'till it has wearied it ſelf, to no Purpoſe.

THE Firſt remarkable Start, in the En⯑largement of the Engliſh Traffick, was made in the Reign of our High-ſpirited Queen Eli⯑zabeth: And to what Kind of Meaſures it was owing, may, I preſume, be gather'd, without much Difficulty, from the following little Story, which I have taken out of Sir Walter Raleigh's Diſcourſe, concerning the Prerogative of Parliaments.

The Plain Dealer. N^o 86.
FRIDAY, January 15. 1725.

I THINK, I have already inform'd my READERS, That I am a great Lover of Walking: But I don't know whether I have, yet, acquainted them with a Cuſtom I have, to look back, from every Riſing Ground I meet with, in my Perambulations, and ex⯑amine the Change of Proſpect; and the Face, and Scituation, of the Country, I have left behind me.

I HAVE tranſplanted this good Cuſtom, from my Body, into my Mind; which I have, for ſome Years paſt, inur'd to make Pauſes, now and then, in Life; and reckon over its paſt Stages, and the Uſes I have adapted them to: And This I ſometimes do, after a General, and, at other Times, in a more par⯑ticular, Manner.—The Diſtinction of Ages, by Solon, into Diviſions, of Seven Years, is an Example of the Firſt Kind; and has ſome⯑thing [241] in it, that is juſt, and natural; and uncommon enough to be worth tranſlating.

OF the ſecond, and more particular Kind, I have met with no livelier Example, than That of the illuſtrious Paulo Paruta, a Noble Venetian; who was ſent Ambaſſador, from his Republick, to Pope Clement the Eighth; and compos'd the following Soliloquy, during his Reſidence at Rome; wherein he briefly Examines the whole Courſe of his paſt Life.

The Plain Dealer. No 87
MONDAY, January 18. 1725.

SO far, I have entertain'd my Readers with ſome Reflexions, for which I am oblig'd to an unknown Hand, on a Subject, where⯑on much has already been written; with leſs Effect than might reaſonably have been ex⯑pected, from the Force, and Clearneſs, of the Arguments.

IF I am not miſtaken, That Diſreliſh of the Sacred Writings, which my Correſpon⯑dent complains of (tho' I hope it is far from Univerſal among us) may be imputed to the low Spirit, and flat, obſolete, Expreſſion, of the coarſe Engliſh, they are tranſlated in.—I leave it (ſays an Excellent Modern Critick) to our Prelates and Paſtors, to conſider, Whether, ſince they are ſatisfied, That there is a Neceſſity for a Numerous Style, in ſome Parts of our Publick Worſhip, they ought to remain contented with the Vile Verſions, now in Uſe, and ſuffer the moſt lofty, and moſt pathetick Idea's of Religion, to be burleſqu'd, in our Churches?—which is all one, as if they ſhou'd dreſs up a Biſhop, in ſome an⯑tick-Habit, [254] and expoſe him, every Sunday, in That merry Garb, to raiſe the Veneration of the People!

IT is finely obſerv'd, and indeed, unde⯑niably demonſtrated, by the ſame Gentle⯑man, in his Grounds of Criticiſm in Poetry, That, as the Great Characteriſtick of Poetry, is Paſſion, and the ſtrongeſt, and moſt mov⯑ing Paſſions flow moſt naturally, from Reli⯑gious Idea's; For this Reaſon chiefly, the An⯑cient Poetry (where their Religion had its moſt powerful Influence) has, ſo viſibly the Advantage over the Modern, (which is for the moſt Part light, prophane, and contemp⯑tible.) And, for the ſame Reaſon too, the Poetry of the Hebrews, which the Old Teſta⯑ment is, every where, fill'd with, excell'd That of the Antient Greeks and Romans.

THERE are numberleſs Inſtances, in the Pſalms, and among the Prophets, and in⯑deed throughout all Parts of the Old, and New Teſtaments, of a Sublimity, that exalts the Humane Soul, and ſhakes it, with a much ſtronger Degree of Terror, and Admi⯑ration, than Any, the moſt noble Strokes of rapturous Enthuſiaſm, which can be met with even in Homer Himſelf.

WHAT a Collection of dreadful Images are thrown together in the Eighteenth Pſalm, to deſcribe the Majeſty of GOD, deſcending in the Fullneſs of his Power!—The Earth trembles,—The Foundations of the Hills are ſhaken,—He bows the Heavens, and comes [255] down,—and Darkneſs is under his Feet! All This is animated, and wonderful!—But, what follows, is a Conception, of ſo immenſe, and terrible a Grandeur! that our vulgar Tranſlation ſeems unpardonable, for the manifeſt Injuſtice it has done the Mean⯑ing; Then the Channels of the Waters were ſeen: And the Foundations of the World were diſcover'd!—But, ſee, how This ought to have appear'd, in the noble Dreſs which Mr. Dennis has given it.

WHAT comes neareſt to This, is, That famous Paſſage, in the xxth Iliad of Homer, to which alſo, the Gentleman juſt nam'd has given the fineſt Tranſlation it ever met with,

THE Hebrew Prophets abound, Every⯑where with Idea's, ſo ſublimely Enthuſiaſtick, that they tranſport and carry away the Rea⯑der, with a Power that is reſiſtleſs; and wor⯑thy of the GOD, who is honour'd by them!—Among Theſe, the Deſcription of That De⯑ſolation from the Eaſt, which was prophe⯑ſied againſt the Jews, by Habakkuk (as we ſee it, in his firſt Chapter) has ſomething in it, ſo ſtrongly painted, and ſo terrible! that it ſtrikes us, (thro' the moſt un-ornamented Simplicity,) with a Force, that was never ex⯑cell'd, by all the Elaborate Productions of Poetry!

[257]THE fourth Chapter of the ſame Prophet, is one continued Height of the Divineſt Ele⯑vation; and I ſhall inſert the whole Succeſ⯑ſion of its matchleſs Images, as a Proof how truly it has been obſerv'd, by the Gentleman who ſent me the foregoing Letter, That there are infinitely ſublimer Sentiments in the Sacred Writers, than in any of the moſt celebrated Claſſick Authors.

I SHALL cloſe my Paper with the Words of a Gentleman, whom I have, already, once or twice, nam'd in it,— ‘'If Harmony, ſays he, is, of itſelf, ſo Efficacious, what muſt it not be, when incorporated with a Religious Senſe?—There can, certainly, be no bet⯑ter Way to Reformation, than the Read⯑ing of thoſe Writings, which we believe to be divinely inſpir'd: But it is equally cer⯑tain, that the greater the Pleaſure is, with which we read them, the oftner we ſhall diſcharge that Duty: And, to make us read them with more Pleaſure, They muſt have more of the Harmony, and Force, of their Originals.—This would attract the Gentry, and Perſons of the moſt Extraordi⯑nary Parts, whoſe Examples would influ⯑ence the reſt. For Perſons of the moſt Ex⯑traordinary Parts, being extremely delight⯑ed with Poetry, and finding the moſt exal⯑ted Poetry upon Religious Subjects, wou'd, by Degrees, become more us'd to be mov'd, by Sacred, than prophane Idea's; and, in Conſequence, wou'd be reform'd.’

The Plain Dealer. No 88.
FRIDAY, January 22. 1725.

THE Sea is the moſt Vaſt, of all the vi⯑ſible Objects of Nature: And, when the Wind adds Diſturbance and Motion, to its Immenſity, There is nothing, that ſeems ſo Dreadfully proportion'd to the Greatneſs of its Almighty Creator!—Yet, as the Art of the Painter gives us a ſenſible Delight, from the Repreſentation of Proſpects, of Crea⯑tures, or of Actions, which, in their Natures, are Productive of Horror; ſo, we are never more pleas'd, by any Deſcriptions, in Poetry, than by Thoſe, which ſet before us the ſtrongeſt, and livelieſt Pictures, of Shipwrecks and Storms at Sea: Whether it is, that the Soul exults, and prides its ſelf, in a Conſci⯑ouſneſs of its own Capacity, to move and con⯑ceive ſo greatly?—Or, That we derive a [260] ſharper Taſte, and Enjoyment, of our own Safety, from a Compariſon, with thoſe repre⯑ſented Dangers?